Withdrawal
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: A sequel to Addiction. A lot of things can happen in a New York Gala at the exclusive Waldorf Astoria Ballroom, appropriately transformed into an Enchanted Forest for the occasion. 3 Part story. Side Pairs: Mad Swan and Red Cricket
1. Part 1

**Pairing: Rumbelle**

**Rating: NC-17 (Part 2)**

**Summary: A lot of things can happen in a New York Gala at the exclusive Waldorf Astoria Ballroom, appropriately transformed into an Enchanted Forest for the occasion.**

**Dedication: To Brave-Belle who gave me the prompt for the original Addiction story, to ddagent, 3pirouette, and rufeepeach, the people that got me into smut and for the members of both the Rumbelle Chatroom and the RMC (Drafty, Angel, dearie and many, many I'm sadly forgetting), who make my day, keep my head where it should be (in Rumbelle smut, apparently), discuss couture with me and hug me when I have feels.**

**A/N: There will be Mad Swan, Regina and Red Cricket, but you will have to wait for the next part. And smut. Possibly with some bloodplay (and no, I have no idea how _that_ happened…). And, as usually, U apologize for Spinning the Wheel. I'm struggling to make it canon-compliant so I'm wating for the end of the season to post again.**

**As usual feedback is appreciated, especially since I'm still writing the second part. Any and all forms of encouragement are more than well-received!**

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The spacious ballroom located on the third floor or the Waldorf-Astoria was impressive on any given day, the perfect venue for any high class social event, but on that particular night it looked especially spectacular, decked as it was in wood, glitter and gauzy fabrics. The grand chandelier that hung high above the many scattered tables was only one of the many sources of light that gave the room the hazy, dreamy quality that it had on that occasion.

Circular tables were lavishly decorated with gauzy, shimmery fabrics. The walls were speckled with ivy and wisteria, silver branches wrapping around columns, sprouting equally silver leafs that contrasted nicely with the soft golden colour of the walls. The effect was quite striking, and easy to read: for one night and just one the depths of one of the oldest hotels in New York City would play host to an Enchanted Forest. Tinkling, fairy-like music provided an added dream-like quality without necessarily grating on the nerves of the many people assembled there in their finest, chatting animatedly, shaking hands and pulling their lips back in different variations of the same polite, fake smile. The old families of Manhattan mingled together with the business tycoons and a handful of celebrities, all gathered to show their support for The Blue Ribbon Foundation, a charity dedicated to the improvement of the life of the families of the men who protected New York City, the NYPD.

As it was the case with many such events, the people had been gathered in groups. A few tables filled mostly with politicians and lawyers, all the singers and actors gathered to a side while the old crones of the ancient Manhattan lineages gossiped quietly on the other side, their skin like parchment. Finally, in the centre, rested the driving force of the island, the Wall Street Sharks, all sharp suits and sharper teeth, acting like they were not at constant war with themselves. Media Moguls, bankers, oil-extractors with their greasy smiles and hateful charm, tobacco dealers whose doctors had made them give up smoking for their health ages ago… They all seemed so incongruously real against the fairy tale backdrop that surrounded them, no matter what extra flamboyant touch they had allowed themselves for the occasion.

It was still early in the evening, the first guests just beginning to locate the seats they had paid inordinate amounts of money for, when he arrived. He slipped in with no one the wiser, another bloke in a perfectly-tailored suit under a rich overcoat, the only visible difference to the norm being his cane, the gold handle gleaming in the artificial light bathing the room.

He located his table easy enough, smirking in satisfaction when he knew he was, indeed, nowhere near George King, James Charmont or any of the other members of Imp, Inc. The explanation one of the head organizers of the event gave anyone and everyone that came to ask about the particular seating chart was some half-believable drivel about the necessity of letting the big men mingle with each other and play nice instead of closing ranks around the members of their own companies. No one would buy it, of course, but the reality behind the lie was, if possible, more farfetched.

The newcomer circled the table, the place cards giving him the information he needed regarding his future tablemates, absent at the moment. The owner of a veritable Telecommunications Empire, his boring wife and, a little bit to the side, his young and insipid little mistress. The head of a financial consulting group of great reputation and his assistant and, last, the CEO of one of the biggest multinationals in existence on his left and, sitting next to her, her dainty little assistant.

Her gorgeous, kind, cheerful and unbelievably sexy little assistant.

He caressed the name on her card, the many loops of the slanted B making the letter almost unrecognizable, before moving on to his own seat, taking pains not to jostle his leg as he sat down. Two years of actually following his physician's orders, eating healthier and doing… vigorous exercise had managed to dull the pain to a fainter, steadier throb, but he was still as weary of it as always.

He nodded to the few people that dared make eye-contact with him, gesturing for a passing waiter to bring him a Scotch, neat, before allowing his mind to drift off, as it had been prone to do as of late. He recalled with vivid details their first floundering months together following their first night. That very weekend they had spent it cooped in his penthouse, cooking together, watching old movies and lazily languishing in bed, silk sheets draped loosely around them both. She had laughed at his choice of bedding ("Really, Nick, gold sheets?"), but he had been utterly mesmerized by the actual, real sight of her spread over his mattress, the molten gold of the sheets adding a warm glow to her skin. The moment he had first laid his eyes on her like that he had pounced like some sort of wild beast, the lines between reality and the dream of her in his bedroom, naked and willing all blurring in his mind.

She had spent half of that Saturday and Sunday wearing his shirts and the other half wearing nothing at all, and it had been perfect. Letting her go that Sunday night had been horrible, and he had fought her tooth and nail, but it had been no use. She had gone back home, some dingy apartment she shared with two very unpleasant psych majors, apparently, and the next day her internship at Uni Global had begun.

He had feared, that very Monday morning, that Belle would not find a place in her life, a life that was clearly just taking off, for him. He had been moody all day, all of his doubts and insecurities scurrying back once the shield of Belle's very real and very smooth skin had left him. He had spent the entire working day second-guessing himself, worried about the possibility that it had all been a dream- albeit the most explicit and wonderful dream he had ever had- or that common sense had caught up with his Belle and she had wisely decided to reconsider the idea of chaining herself to an old cripple for the rest of her life… Because he had been very clear on that, at least. He wanted forever.

He had been barking some meaningless order at an male intern or Mary Margaret, sometimes he had difficulties telling one from the other, when a call had come from the lobby, where a very disgruntled security guy- Leroy, of course, who else- was apparently getting very vocal with a very stubborn woman demanding to see Mr Gold. He had almost told Mary Margaret (or a look-alike intern, he wasn't really sure) to get rid of whoever that was, when Leroy had casually mentioned the woman was holding a cup of coffee and a Starbucks paper bag.

He had told him promptly that if said woman was not in his office in five minutes his job would vanish into thin air, as if by magic.

And suddenly there she had been, all shy smiles and softness, dressed in a women's suit tailored to perfection (oh, and what ideas it had given him) and a soft, periwinkle-blue blouse. She had greeted Mary Margaret with enthusiasm, sidestepping with grace the question of who the fuck she was to Gold, and seamlessly stepping into his office, where she deposited his coffee and muffin on the brand new wooden desk.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this… I wasn't really sure you'd want me in your office" she paused to give him a tiny smile and a coy look from under her lashes, shrugging "But I wanted to see you. I'm sorry if I'm out of line"

Had he been honest with her he'd have said he had heard nothing after 'wanting her in his office' (which he did, oh, dear Lord, he did so much). He shushed her with a gentle kiss, which promptly got out of hand when he tasted the chocolate she usually drank on the afternoons. After that there had been no way to stop himself from getting the reassurance he had craved all day, only having enough presence of mind to keep as quiet as possible as he, bad leg and all, took her against a wall, marvelling at the way she seemed to welcome his desperate touches and frenzied kisses. Afterwards, draped both on a corner of his leather couch, half-dressed and temporarily sated, she had run her fingers across his hair, a rueful smirk on her face.

"Is it awful of me to say that this is exactly what I envisioned would happen when I got here?" she had whispered into his ear, her blush reaching the column of her neck "I must admit it still hasn't quite sunk in that what I've wanted for so long is now real. That you love me"

The notion had been so utterly ridiculous, so far-fetched, that he had let out a rather booming laugh at the mere idea, pulling his Belle as close as possible.

"What an incongruous notion, my dear" he had purred, practically rubbing his entire side against her like some overgrown cat cuddling up to its master "We'll have to do something about those silly little doubts of yours… By the way, how was your first day?"

"Eventful. I was really disoriented and people seemed to really try and be as unhelpful as possible" she had frowned, he had had wanted nothing more than to ritualistically slaughter all those unhelpful bastards "And I got to meet Mal" he had expected a deeper frown, if not actual tears. What he got instead was a beautiful smile "She's wonderful"

He had known there and then that was not good.

He had never expected for her to hit it off with Mal, of all people. His Belle was bright, he knew that, and an asset to whoever was lucky enough to have her as an employee, but Mal was prickly, wary and naturally distrusting of everyone that approached her with a smile and a sunny attitude. But of course, _of course_, Belle had been the exception. With her bravery, patience and her uncanny ability to read people she had managed to last as the notorious Mal. E. Ficient's assistant for more than the average period (2 months).

So he had had to compete, from the beginning of their relationship, with the ever-present figure of the CEO of Uni Global (he had once mentioned in spite to Belle that Uni stood for Unicorn, the name of Mal's pet pony as a child). Belle had from day one established a set of rules he fought against, namely:

No moving to his expensive Upper East Side penthouse.

No phone calls during working hours (Mal would either kill her or tease her mercilessly).

No talking to Mal about her.

No buying her expensive gifts (unless, and this was an addendum that had cost Gold countless evenings of careful discussion, he got to enjoy the present too).

No fighting with her father (they had met shortly after they had started dating, or courting as he referred to often, and Moe hadn't really warmed up to the "perverted old suit that thinks it's okay to prey on my little girl", as he called him).

He had broken, over the course of two years, most of their rules once. Rule C, specifically, he had shattered into a million pieces one fall afternoon when he had met with the blonde CEO to discuss their… sharing, for lack of a better word, of Belle. He had complained about Mal taking too much of the girl's time on purpose to piss him off, especially when she requested the girl's presence for evens he was attending, when _he_ wanted her on his arm. She had nodded, with an unapologetic smirk, and they had settled, once and for all, their own rules of Belle-sharing. When said woman had found out they had both been put, rather unceremoniously, in the dog house.

He had had to go all the way to Brooklyn, to her crappy little apartment, to get her to talk to him again.

"You are blowing this out of proportion, dearie" he had argued while gingerly sitting down on an old maroon couch, trying not to wince as it almost gave out from under him. Belle had been pacing in front of him and had paused at those words.

"Blowing it out of proportion?" she had almost screamed, incredulity lacing her tone "You drafted a contract! And signed it!" a pause, and more incredulity mixed with accusation "You had it _notarized_!"

In retrospective he could see she had had a point.

It had taken absurd amounts of grovelling, and some really unpleasant moments of open, raw honesty, to get her to forgive him. He had hated it, being so straightforward to her about the depth of his feelings, the agony of his doubts, but she had been as gentle with him as always, not dismissing his insecurities but rather chasing them away wordlessly with caresses and small, significant gestures.

Some other rules he had managed to circumnavigate. Rule D, particularly, had suffered over the years. That was how, on the eve of their two-year anniversary, Belle could safely say she was probably the woman with the biggest La Perla collection in New York City. The first time he had casually left one of the white rectangular shopping bags for her to find after sleeping over at his house she had put up a fight. He had merely pointed towards her ripped rose panties lying on his Persian rug.

"Dearie, I broke it, it is only right that I replace it" he had pointed out before turning back to his copy of the _Times_ and his morning cup of coffee. She had had no other choice but to agree. A couple of hours later the new lacy white pair of boyshorts had found a similar fate to that of the rose pair and Belle had not said a word when a new La Perla bag had appeared out of nowhere.

Belle had fit into his life like she had always been there, a vital part of it, the heart of his existence. She had gotten along swimmingly with Mary Margaret, going far beyond the usual politeness the boss's boyfriend might show towards his secretary and becoming true friends, finding common ground as assistants to veritable ogres and as polite, petite women who could, surprisingly, drink most burly men under the table (He had never know a hotter sight than that of his Belle downing half a bottle of his best Johnnie Walker blue label in one smooth go).

She had also befriended Ruby Lucas, wiz kid of Acquisitions, that seemed at first glance like some sort of brunette bimbo but that hid, underneath her flirtatious façade and slightly racy wardrobe, an animalistic sort of instinct and a certain ruthlessness in business that no one would suspect at first glance. She had latched onto Belle the moment Mary Margaret had introduced them, and they had since been like long lost sisters reunited. He was glad both girls seemed not to pester Belle about her relationship with him, so he had let them be. The more they bonded the more reasons his girl had to come to Imp Inc.

After a year she had moved alone to an apartment in Manhattan, which had been an improvement, and without college in the way they had had much more time in their hands. Though a solitary person by nature Gold found it astounding how comfortable he felt having Belle occupy most of his spare time. He didn't just not mind it… he craved it. Not only the sex, though that was spectacular in a way that bordered on religious worship, but also the day-to-day living. Cooking together, sharing the paper and discussing the news, going to a bookstore, watching an exhibit at the Met, it seemed so natural to be always two that it unnerved him at times, the power his little Belle had over him.

She had still adamantly demanded to live by herself in her own apartment, and instead of getting into a row with her over it, he had decided to go about it another way, enticing her to first spend the weekends at his penthouse (it did help that his bed was twice the size of hers and that he had a white fur rug directly in front of the fireplace of his sitting-room she absolutely adored and that, by extension, he now cherished too). He had suggested, after several times she almost fell asleep with him on a Sunday night after he had taken great pains to exhaust her completely, that she should leave a change of clothes and some toilerettes just in case. He had bought another laptop only to claim it was a spare one he had laying around so she would have a computer use when taking some work home, relishing in the sight of them in his studio, he on the desk and she on the couch, working in companionable silence.

He had begun to stock up on her favourite foods and buy books according to what he knew she liked. And every day she had been about to go only to stop by the bookcase and drop her purse in favour of some reading material he had felt a small stab of victory wash over him. Three months after getting her own apartment Belle had all but moved in with him, and even she had quietly accepted it. She had still kept her apartment, but his house had become her home.

Theirs was not always an idyllic existence. They fought casually over some difference of opinion or the other, but had had some major fights (the first one having been the "Contract Fiasco"). Another one, particularly unpleasant in Gold's memory, had been when he had found out she had talked to his physician about his leg. How she had managed to con the old idiot into talking about something that fell under the well-known doctor-patient confidentiality clause he still didn't know. And she had kept it a secret too, until she had slipped once when they had gone out for a walk and had had to return earlier because his leg had been killing him.

"Nick, you need to exercise more, I've told you that" she had huffed while gently applying a cold compress to the injured knee, one of her hands petting his hair like usual "Or check out one of the many courses of physical therapy the doctor is always trying to cajole you into trying…"

At first her words had seemed harmless, natural. Seconds later their meaning had sunk in and he had frozen beneath her touch.

"You… talked to my doctor?"

The words had come out clipped and deceptively soft. Her eyes had widened instantly, a guilty look overtaking her features, and she had backed up from him.

"I… I…" she had floundered for an explanation, trying to phrase it in a way that wouldn't make him as angry as he had looked he was about to become "Nick, I only wanted to help, I swear"

He had totally lost his temper with her then, screaming about boundaries, privacy, betrayal and God knows what else, his Scottish brogue thickening till Belle had shouted back that she couldn't understand a word he was saying. She had stormed out, either hurt or angry, and he had downed two bottles of mead directly afterwards. The monstrous headache that had greeted him the day after had been nothing compared to the coldness of his bed. He had held onto his anger, knowing that for once, and likely for the only time, he was absolutely in the right.

The weekend had passed, the anger in his veins simmering down into loneliness and weariness. He hadn't been able to sleep well at all, tossing and turning and finally avoiding his monstrous bed altogether, choosing instead to pass out drunk in his study. Then he had moved to his office, taking some extra suits and other essentials, and had made almost to the end of the week when he had gotten a call from Mal.

"What the fuck did you do?" she had hissed in greeting. He had bristled at being addressed in such a manner.

"Mal, you sound worried. I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me, dearie. I'm not a mind reader" he had snidely replied. The woman had huffed.

"You broke our little Belle, you insensitive idiot!" she had snarled, noticing with satisfaction that that has shut him up quite nicely "I just had to send her home after the third time I found her crying in the bathroom. She hasn't slept all week and I had to force-feed her something two days ago. I don't care what happened, I don't care who the fuck fucked up or who was right or wrong. You will fix this. You will grovel at her dainty little feet cause we both fucking know you don't deserve her and that you can't afford the luxury of being right. Just… beg, and do it quickly. Cause if she is this bad I cannot even begin to imagine the sorry state you're in"

She had hung up after that, ever the Drama Queen, leaving him feeling defeated but accepting. After all, she had been right. He was lucky to have Belle and he'd do anything, even begging apologies for something that was clearly not his fault, to keep her in his life for as long as he could.

He had then gone finally home, having decided that he would give her some time to herself and would go to her house first thing Saturday morning to straighten the whole mess out. He hadn't been happy with the idea, but his temper had calmed at the notion of having Belle back, of having her with him again.

When he had heard the knock somewhere around midnight he had been puzzled, but not alarmed. Still dressed in his suit, catching up on some forgotten work, he had gone to answer thinking he had likely imagined the sound but as soon as he had gotten close enough to the door he had heard the gentle sniffling that he knew meant Belle was on the other side. He had hastily pulled the door open, taking in the red-eyed, drawn little thing drenched to the bone (he had barely registered it was raining), hair plastered to her face and neck and shivering slightly.

"Belle, what the devil…?" he had, in the face of her rather sorry state, forgotten temporarily all about grovelling or fighting. He had moved to usher the girl in when she had shied away from his touch. The movement had hurt rather deeply till she had spoken.

"I'm sorry" she had stuttered, rather obviously fighting back tears "I was wrong. I did it with the best of intentions but it was wrong and underhanded and I am so sorry. And I'm sorry for fighting, and for being too prideful to apologize the instant I knew I'd done wrong and for Mal talking to you… She shouldn't have done that. I promise I'll never go behind your back on things like this again…" she had seemed to deflate after the initial onslaught of words, pausing to discretely wipe her eyes "Nick, I'm so, so sorry. I know it's not enough but it's all I can give you"

He had tried to usher her in again, feeling words and emotions choking him, when she had finally broken down sobbing, apologizing all over again through hiccups. He had crushed her to him then and there, kicking the door closed and muttering over and over that he forgave her, that all was right again, that she should please stop crying before he lost his mind. They had ended up tangled in his bed sheets, she wearing one of his pyjama tops and he the bottoms, too exhausted to do more than hold each other fiercely, Gold relishing in the way his entire front was pressed to her back, one of his arms circling her waist, holding her in place lest she dare think of moving for any reason at all. She had stopped shivering somewhere around the time he had tangled his legs with hers and he had believed her to be asleep when he had murmured against her hair:

"You know, dearie… I would have gone to you had you not come to me"

She had shifted closer then, turning her head to meet his gaze out of the corner of an eye.

"I know" she had answered, voice soft "But it wouldn't have been fair"

It had been clear to him then that he would never be able to let Belle go.

After that major hitch the rest of their first year had been perfect, including those times when they had had to dine with Moe French and Gold had had to pretend he hadn't caught the numerous references the florist made to his age. It hadn't been easy.

Belle had been doing so well at her job Nick hadn't minded much the time she spent at Uni. Global, feeling rather generous with Mal and a tad sympathetic. But then the news had come, sudden and real and impossible to ignore. Mal had been unsuccessfully trying to expand the company's business interests in Japan and, in order to take a new approach on things, she was sending Belle to see what could be done.

Belle. In Japan. Belle. Away.

Belle… gone.

When she had told him he had tried to act as nonchalant as possible, and see the good side of things. Mal was clearly exposing Belle to the full extent of her little Empire as a tentative first step towards grooming a possible successor. And Belle deserved that like no one else. And the fact that Mal trusted her spoke volumes by itself.

"It'll be for a month…" Belle had hesitated as she relied the news to him over dinner at the penthouse "… It's an optional trip"

Of, course, wonderful little creature that she was, she had given him a saying, an opportunity to object, if he chose to do so. And the temptation had been great, the words coming readily to his lips, flooding his mouth. But he hadn't, of course. That Belle had given him the chance had been wonderful, but had he actually gone through with it would have poisoned their relationship. So he had chosen that particular moment in his life to be brave and selfless and send her on her merry way, dismissing her concerns with gentle reminders that he had been able to survive without her for over forty years, so there was nothing for her to worry about.

He had lied, of course. And he had known that form day one, but he had hoped he'd fair better than he thought he would. He couldn't hold onto Belle to soothe his every insecurity and self-doubt. So he had helped her pack, driven her to the airport and kissed her softly goodbye, promising to e-mail her back every time she wrote to him.

For a man who had been a bachelor almost all of his life it had turned out to be ridiculously difficult to adjust to long periods of time alone. He had quickly gone over the stack of books he never could really find the time to read, finding every two pages an interesting paragraph or a funny bit of dialogue he knew Belle would have loved.

Cooking had needed a bit of adjustment as well, since he had caught himself the first two weeks making too much to eat by himself or, worst of all, cooking dishes he didn't particularly care for but where, of course, Belle's favourites.

He had forgone Starbucks altogether, a wise choice. Mary Margaret, looking particularly terrified and close to tears, had found him a temporary replacement that was tolerable, especially after Gold added a finger or two of whiskey. His secretary had taken the girl's departure almost as hard as the businessman, but for entirely different reasons. He had finally stopped harassing her over every tiny mistake she made when he had gotten a message from Belle, craftily worded: _"Mary M. seems on low spirits as of late. She won't write about what's bothering her, probably some stilly fight with James. You try and look after her, please?"_

He had gritted his teeth and behaved from that point on.

The only bright spot he had discovered with the trips was that he had seen they affected Belle as much as they did him. Sometimes he had gotten messages when he knew that in Japan it was the middle of the night, silly short things about the weather or something she had seen during the day, followed by a quiet, longing 'I miss you' that had him tearing into his dresser to fish out the small jewellery box that contained something he had purchased days after she had appeared on his doorstep after their big fight. It was a lovely thing, Art Nouveau with its soft curves and engraved details, a big, round white diamond with a faint blush of peach-pink surrounded by a circle of diamonds and moon-shaped sides in a halo setting. He had gotten it from a private collector, a vintage piece that screamed 'Belle' even though it had been crafted years before she had been born.

He would stare at it, transfixed, numb and wanting. Two years, he'd recall, and it all still seemed like some fucking dream, like he was still sitting down, pretending to read the paper while he waited for his Belle to bid him goodbye forever. He'd think about how he should wait till the initial rush of adrenaline and joy at having Belle be his would vanish but as he pondered about the last two years in the enchanted setting of the Waldorf Astoria Ballroom he came to the conclusion, both incredible and real, that such a feeling would never die.

He had been waiting, that dark, pessimistic part of him, for him to become disenchanted or, more likely, for his Belle to finally come to her senses. But it hadn't happened, and he was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was ready to face this not as some fleeting moment of happiness but as a genuine chance at forever.

He willed his hand to stop shaking. The tremors had appeared roughly a week after Belle had been gone, and had, thankfully, gotten less noticeable as time wore on. The sweating had stopped around the second week alone, but the bouts of insomnia seemed relentless. He had known the cause was psychological… Clearly he was not physically dependent on Belle (though certain parts of him begged quite loudly to disagree), but his subconscious had more than noticed her absence and had decided to deal with it by passive-aggressively giving him fucking withdrawal symptoms. The jitters had not been as surprising as the bouts of muscle pain (it hadn't helped that he was sleeping like he was cramped inside a box, whenever he managed to actually fall asleep and not merely pass out drunk). He had even thrown up, though he mostly blamed the alcohol for that last part. As for his mood he had never been an easy-going person but if Mary Margaret's apparent desperate cry for help to Belle was any indication, he had gotten a lot worse during the last month.

Though the insomnia still lingered, along with some twitching, the rest of the symptoms had faded away after a few weeks, mostly out of sheer will to overcome this pathetic problem of his. He thought he'd be happy with it, he certainly did not enjoy looking less than perfectly in control of himself, but he felt oddly bereft and awkward. Now that his body had stopped mourning the temporary loss of Belle like it was some sick little puppy bereft of its master's presence, he could finally go back to his normal routine, only it sported a rather large, gaping hole in it.

'_Restraint is overrated' _Gold snarled mentally, downing another glass of scotch before flagging the nearest waiter to request another _'I don't want self-control, I want Belle'_

And Belle he would have. She was already in New York, her flight having landed hours ago, after which she had had to meet with Mal before hurrying to change for the Gala. He had tried to cajole her into doing that at his penthouse, but she had wisely texted him that she doubted he'd be of any help getting her into clothes and not merely out of them.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in" the mellifluous voice caught him by surprise, but he didn't let it show. He glanced casually to his left where a statuesque blonde in her forties, impeccably dressed in draping, sparkling Elie Saab, had suddenly appeared. He raised his glass at her, smirk firmly in place.

"Ah, Mal, I see they let you use the front door every now and then" he replied, his voice soft and casual "Good for you"

Mallory Evans Ficient was a striking woman, all sharp angles and even sharper instincts, and few people could claim to be able to string two words together when in her presence. She smiled at her favourite frenemy, the deceptively well-mannered Nicholas Gold, before taking a sip of her vodka martini in such a way that her lipstick did not smudge. She had not always not-hated the  
Scotsman, but over the years they had managed to build a truce that had, somehow, developed into an amicable relationship, with a certain degree of trust blended in for good measure.

"Seems someone is in a bad mood" she purred, a wicked smile about her face "What's the matter, Gold? Feeling lonely?"

He tried not to let his annoyance show, but his hand chose that moment to twitch, almost dropping his half-full glass of Scotch. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Please, Nick, like I don't know your leg is jolting bad enough that it's making the table tremble" she eyed her martini glass, the contents quivering as the surface it was on moved "Though it is to be expected. I'm rather amazed you're not climbing the walls, bag leg and all"

He smiled, but not a pleasant sort of smile.

"You certainly made sure to be as much of a nuisance as possible, dearie. Eager to watch me squirm? I'm afraid, though, that it won't be so easy. We have and agreement and I have no qualms about fulfilling my end of the bargain"

He spoke with practiced ease that belied all of his inner turmoil, wishing he was holding his cane so he'd have something to squeeze other than the very fragile glass in his hands. Mal snorted, lounging back on her seat with a knowing smirk dancing across her face.

"Like it's not killing you inside that after taking her away for a month I demand she accompanies me to this little shindig" she paused, taking a sip of her drink "And you know the rules. If she's with me you are restricted to minimum contact"

Nicholas nodded, once again regretting ever coming up with that rule. At the time all he had thought about was how he wanted Mal to leave Belle alone when he'd take her out to some event where she'd most likely be present. He had never thought the rule could be turned around and used against it. So now he was stuck with minimal contact and maximum wanting.

Fucking perfect.

The four-letter-word answer he had on his lips died with the arrival of some of the other guests. Mal made a comment under her breath about the amount of alcohol that she'd need to survive the evening while staring at the red-headed bimbo in the tight red dress practically draping herself over the pouchy man leering at her breasts.

"By the way, have I thanked you yet for messing with the seating arrangements?" though Mal had a wide, fake smile plastered over her face for the benefit of the newcomers Gold relished in the poison behind her words.

"It was my pleasure, dear" he answered, all sharp teeth and smugness, eyeing the empty seat next to Mal with anticipation colouring his features "My pleasure indeed"

* * *

"I cannot believe we made it" Mary Margaret's teeth chattered as she pulled her white wool coat tighter while trying to simultaneously fish out her invitation out of her silver, beaded clutch "Not after my heel got caught in a crack back in 32nd and 5th. By the way, Ruby, you've got some strength in you"

Ruby Lucas smiled, pleased, while gazing at her manicured nails, the vivid red spotless.

"Well, personally, I cannot believe we talked you out of wearing pastels" she replied, a wolfish smile on her face "Which, by the way, you're totally gonna thank me for later, when James's jaw hits the ballroom floor"

The Reem Acra hiding behind the wool coat was navy blue, with silver details and, to MM's constant worry, strapless. She tried not to fidget with the bodice as she raced to the elevators, her two friends in tow.

"You are not one to talk about signature colours" the raven-haired girl huffed, eying her friend's barely-hidden 2011 couture Elie Saab, a Greek-inspired vision in red "And, by the way, I don't want to know how you got it. Granted it is last season but still, Ruby!"

"I told you I had contacts, Mary M. And, more importantly, so do you. You simply chose not to make use of them. Learn from Belle over here. I mean, she hit the fucking jackpot and all she had to do is mention Maleficient's name"

The third woman, a brunette in a cream-coloured, floor-length coat, pushed the other two into the waiting elevator with little grace.

"Can we please hurry along? Mal's gonna kill me if I don't show up soon" she held her smartphone up for the others to see the amount of messages her boss had left her. Ruby and Mary Margaret both rolled their eyes, nonplussed.

"Like your anxiety is over your boss" one of them snarked. Belle blushed and looked away, unwilling to rise to the occasion, concentrating on pressing the button for the third floor rather viciously.

"Well, moving aside from Belle's incredibly-passionate and enviable love life, we need to get our heads together for Operation: Mad Swan" Ruby commented, checking her make-up. It was exaggerated but, then again, that was the idea for the evening. An Enchanted Forest.

"Well, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. I got her in a dress, didn't I?" Mary Margaret looked inordinately pleased, a bit like she had cured cancer or solved world hunger "And braided her hair. I hadn't been able to get Emma to do that since she was ten"

The elevator stopped on the third floor and, as the women got out, they unceremoniously bumped into the object of their conversation, Detective Second Class Emma Swan of the NYPD, the brightest star of the Major Case Squad Division at 1PP. From a complicated background, a ward of the State almost since birth, Emma Swan had seen her fair share of foster homes and abusive foster parents. She had been tossed around till she had settled in a rather unfortunate home in Brooklyn when she'd been eight, sharing beatings and starvation with a lot of other children who she had chosen to protect, ever the white knight to the needy. She had met Mary Margaret in the hallways of the apartment, discovering that they were neighbours and striking a quick friendship with the ever-sunny raven-haired girl with the easy smile and the mothering touch. Mary Margaret had disinfected every single one of her scrapes and cooked most of the food she had eaten in her childhood, and mostly followed her around with an extra sweater in winter and a cool glass of lemonade in the summer. They were as different as night and day yet they had managed to remain friends for over twenty years.

"I feel stupid, Eminem" Emma grounded out as soon as she spotted her friend, calling her by her childhood nickname "Honestly, pale pink? Do you know me at all?"

Belle and Ruby giggled behind Mary Margaret, both familiar enough with the blond to know she'd put up the obligatory fight and then cave in to the meeker Mary Margaret. Why she did that was still a mystery to both of them.

"Oh, come on, Emma, you look lovely. Look, Dr Whale cannot keep his eyes off you" she pointed towards a good-looking yet shady blond-haired man. It was forensic-wiz kid John Whale, renowned for his excellent autopsies and his absolutely creepy approach to flirtation. Emma was glad that she did not investigate homicides and so had little to do with him.

"Dr Sea-Rapist? He ogles everything with two X chromosomes, so that's hardly a compliment" true to her word Whale's eye shifted from her to Ruby, who grimaced and pulled her shawl closed, her body language rearranging itself to scream 'Don't even think about it' in the general direction of the doctor, who ducked his head and moved on in search of greener pastures, side-stepping Belle quite nicely, knowing just how spoken-for she was.

"So, we are all in different tables?" Ruby commented, frowning. Emma nodded, having checked.

"Well, it's not like we're gonna remain sitting for long. It's all about the canoodling and the mingling today, remember?" the cop scowled, clearly not looking forward to being paraded in front of everyone as one of the prizes of the NYPD. As a detective Emma was flawless: a record amount of cases solved, no sanctions or IA investigations, never a reprimand from her superiors and, as a female officer, she was strong and competent while remaining feminine and caring. A single parent too, who had managed to raise a charming, intelligent and well-adjusted little boy while keeping the city streets clean and safe. She was perfect PR material, if one overlooked the fact she hated to be PR material.

"Yes, which reminds me" Mary Margaret planted herself in front of Emma "Pull your shoulders back, don't speak with your mouth full and, please, for the love of all things good and kind, do not put anyone in any kind of choke hold"

"Yes, mother" Emma replied, all aplomb and innocence, before her eyes darted to the side, barely registering the back of a man's coat and a hint of a burgundy scarf, her smile turning into a frown. Belle and Ruby smiled secretively before the group separated, going to their respective seats.

* * *

Mallory caught sight of the cream coat Belle was wearing as soon as the girl was a few feet away from their table. She smiled, admiring the subtle hints of outlandish colour in the girl's make-up, contrasting with some of the other guest's more gaudy appearance. The loose bun at the back of her head let the natural curls of her hair show and even in a heavy coat she looked lovely. A mothering sort of pride stole over her, unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant, but she carefully filed it away. Belle was more of a friend than a daughter-figure, but she was still her protégée and so Mal allowed herself every now and then to feel protective of her, particularly when Gold was concerned.

"Belle, darling, so nice of you to finally come" she said aloud, not turning to look at her employee. Belle smiled, all cheer and politeness, and her eyes scanned the table, warmly greeting everyone before her breath hitched when her gaze landed on Gold, who was studiously not looking at her.

"I'm sorry I'm late. It took forever to change and I'm still a bit jetlagged" she apologized flawlessly. She placed her clutch on her chair before pulling her coat off, causing Mal to stifle a snort of laughter rather ineffectively.

"It's quite a striking effect, Belle dear" she managed to let out "You're practically…"

The blond CEO paused to look for an apt ending to her sentence but a rough Scottish brogue beat her to it.

"… drenched in gold"

The sudden stab of desire that ran through Belle the moment she heard his voice almost made her knees buckle, but she discretely braced herself on the back of her chair to remain upright. She momentarily regretted her choice of attire, but it had seemed such a playful, teasing idea at the time… Now, looking at his face, at the myriad of emotions tearing at each other in his eyes, it all seemed rather cruel. His whole body seem suddenly tense, as if ready to pounce, one of his hands gripping a tumbler of scotch so tightly she feared it might break under the strain and he'd hurt himself.

The dress by itself was gorgeous, all liquid metal clinging to her skin and falling past her waist, shaping the contours of her body with elegance. It draped itself across her left shoulder, leaving the right one bare and it shone in the many lights of the room, like it was actually made of gold turned into fluid fabric. She wore no jewellery except for delicate diamond studs.

But it was not only the gown that was impressive. Ruby had acquired some shimmery golden powder that she had applied subtly to Belle's face, neck, shoulders and arms, giving her usually alabaster skin a golden glow. Her eyes sported heavier gold eye-shadow and the only other colour in her was the red of her lips.

She was, quite literally, drenched from head to toe in gold, gold, gold, like the statue of some beautiful goddess, ready to be worshiped.

And Gold was more than ready to worship her. Or throttle her for dressing like that when she was well aware he had to keep his hands to himself. Hands that had been nowhere near her for a month. He suddenly ached, something inside him cutting off his oxygen supply, urging him to move towards the brunette, to grab one of her wrists and drag her out to have his wicked way with her, Mal and her mind-games be damned.

"Oh, God, is that Atelier Versace?" the red-headed bimbo asked, her eyes greedily focusing on the dress. Belle nodded, managing to sit down while pretending she couldn't notice Nicholas following her every movement like he was eyeing some sort of prey "The 2008 collection, right?"

"2009, actually" the brunette replied, accepting at the same time a glass of champagne from a rather admiring waiter that took his time leaving. Mal chuckled, Gold seethed and Belle tried to make polite small talk with the safest person at the table, an elderly man that managed a financial consulting group, charmingly called Jasper Adams.

And while she chattered away, charming the old shark with an easiness that was Belle's alone, Gold allowed himself to breathe her in fully. It was difficult to get past the gold all over the place, particularly when a dark voice inside, gleeful and maniacal, chanted that she was marked as his everywhere, all that gold proclaiming his ownership of the woman to all the covetous, unworthy men in the room who saw his beauty and desired her for their own.

The Scottish CEO usually squashed that voice inside whenever it appeared, knowing Belle did not deserve to be thought as a possession but he felt no guilt this time around. The blasted woman had gone away for a month, had returned only to go straight to work for Mal and had worn the most teasing gown in existence while at the same time completely aware that he was not allowed to touch her. She deserved, at present, no consideration on his part.

So he sat, washing down the pasta they had finally served with more Scotch, and watched Belle till he had his fill, breathing in her presence, feeling his jolting leg subside and his muscles relax. Mal was but a slight obstacle, unimportant in the great scheme of the evening, which would end with him buried so deep inside his Belle there would be no separating them again. He only had to be a good boy for a couple of more hours and then he'd have the entire weekend to get re-acquainted with his favourite person in the world.

She was all soft curves and warmth, steely eyes and a sharp gaze that hinted at a will or iron and a perceptive nature. She kept mostly quiet, exchanging words with Mal, laughing at times, fending off the inane chatter coming from the red-headed bimbo and, every five minutes or so, sneaking glances at him from under her gold-flecked lashes. He, on the other hand, made no attempt at hiding the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, eye-fucking Mallory Ficient's assistant. Adams seemed to be studiously ignoring the whole thing, as was his meek, polite young assistant, who apparently was also his grandson. Others, however, seemed genuinely unaware of the blatant way in which the CEO of Imp Inc. was undressing the beauty by his rival's side.

Mason Whitlock, the Telecommunications tycoon with the fake Southern manners and the bright idea of bringing both his wife and his bit on the side to the same event, managed to both ogle Mal covertly and Belle openly, calling her a "little woman" and making unsubtle comments about how he was a big, important man who knew how to properly care for dainty, pretty little misses. His white-blond wife seemed to be too focused on getting drunk to care but his mistress, the woman in the red dress with the fake breasts and red hair, was glaring daggers.

"Well, Miss Belle, I think it's just commendable for young fillies to get out and experience a bit of the world, get all their 'working' urges out before settling down" he leaned over the table, which was blessedly big enough for him to get nowhere close to Belle, and gave her an oily smile, apparently not noticing how the girl back away as much as her chair allowed her to "But the time will come soon when you'll get bored and tired with your job and at such a time it will be nice to have a strong, well-off man to support you the way a beautiful little miss like you deserves to be…"

Whatever the Hell he was going to say got cut short when the businessman howled in pain, quickly clutching his left foot and cursing a blue streak. Mal sniggered, Belle was torn between looking relieved and casting accusatory glances at her beau and said beau smiled pleasantly, surreptitiously hooking his cane to the back of his chair.

"… It is a very pleasant weather we're having" Adams cut in, trying to dispel the sudden tension with some good, old-fashion weather-talk. Mallory rolled her eyes, delicately placing her martini glass on the table before smiling at Whitlock in a predatory manner.

"Look, Mason, I don't particularly like you, but I'm starting to feel really sorry for you so I'm going to tell you what's going on. Your first mistake was propostioning an employee of mine in my presence. Your second mistake was doing so in front of her very influential significant other" she pointed with one of her perfectly-manicured hands at Gold, who lounged in his chair, casually sipping scotch like he wasn't suddenly the main object of the conversation "Who is currently sexually frustrated and very pissed off that I'm contractually cockblocking him, so I'm guessing he'll take it out on you and blacklist you till kingdom come. So if you wish to have anything resembling a business by the time this evening is over you will not even look at Belle again"

Adams choked on a mouthful of pasta, Mrs Whitlock let out a drunken snort and Adams Jr. looked at Belle in awe.

"Is all of that true?" he asked, curious but not in a bad way.

"I wish some of it weren't" Belle replied, referring mostly to the 'contractual cockblock' comment "But yes, that's the general gist of things" she smiled, getting up and taking another flute of champagne from her waiter/stalker "If you will all excuse me I see a friend calling" she glared at Mal "Behave, Mal, if you please" Belle sighed at the look of complete and utter innocence her employer gave her, then turned her gaze to Nicholas, who looked a bit too smug for her liking. She went to the back of his chair and softly tugged on a lock of hair at the back of his head, a common habit of hers "That goes for you too, by the way"

All the people seated at the table got a good look at Nicholas Gold as he shivered in pleasure at the gentle tug, eyes closing and lips spreading into a half-smile.

"Don't I always, dearie?" he replied, his voice like rough velvet, turning his head to a side to look at her as she went to the other end of the room, where he could see Ruby and Mary Margaret waiting.

"… Well, yes, it is nice weather. A bit chilly for this time of the year but I've always been rather partial to the cold" Mal offered, looking at Jasper Adams with a smile, which the old man returned with relief.

And all the while Gold smiled, and smiled, and smiled.


	2. Part 2

**A/N: ... So Withdrawal kinda grew into a Three-Part fic. I have no idea how that happened, I guess I had a bit too much fun with the Mad Swan and the Red Cricket!**

**Next chapter we'll have Regina in Zac Posen and SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. Because if not I'm pretty sure Mr Gold will do something nasty to me.**

**As always enjoy and if you feel like it, do review!**

* * *

"I've never been happier to leave a table full of people" Belle said in lieu of a greeting as she joined her two friends in a corner of the ballroom. Mary M. looked worried and Ruby pissed "What's going on?"

"We've got some interference" Mary Margaret replied, pointing with her chin to Emma, who was clearly trying to get out of a conversation she was having with a dark-haired man with a scruffy beard and an impeccable suit.

"Isn't that ADA Booth?" Belle asked, her nose scrunching up "I thought Emma had turned him down already. Several times, in fact. Called him a creeper once, didn't she?"

Ruby growled, nodding. She had briefly gone out with August way before she ever knew what his nickname down at the DA's office was. Needless to say it had turned out to be a bad, bad idea, and not just because he had had his sights set on Emma even way back then.

"We'll never get them together if August doesn't get out of the way" she huffed, her sharp mind already trying to come up with a solution to their current predicament when Mary Margaret squealed, clapping her hands together.

"We may not have to worry about that" she proclaimed, spying the only man wearing an ascot approaching her best friend and her slimy companion.

"Well, let's give the man some help" Belle quipped, smiling widely before casually making her way towards the dance floor, her bright blue eyes catching the fevered gaze of her target with little difficulty. Ruby and Mary Margaret discretely set out to watch the scene unfold, drinks in hand and expectation high.

"August, really, I'm pretty sure there are no lemurs in Nepal" Emma's voice was clipped, anger lurking at the back like a coiled snake, ready to strike at the right time "I've even googled it. Just give it up already"

August Wayne Booth smiled in that obnoxious, smarmy way he did every time he was caught in a lie and was trying to think of a way to fix it. One of his hands was holding a glass of Scotch on the rocks which he had so far not touched, and the other was trying to subtly snake around Emma Swan's waist, but it got slapped away every try. He rifled through his mind for an appropriate change of subject.

"Did you hear that I broke the record for most convictions for an ADA under 35?" he suddenly announced, smug and charming. The blond detective rolled her eyes, damning Mary Margaret for forbidding choke-holds. She smiled, a pained sort of grimace the lawyer seemed to see as a good sign.

"Well, I'm sure it must be quite exciting" she gritted out, conscious of her superior watching her, approving of her interaction with the prestigious ADA "But, really, I'm famished and…"

"Ah, the young hope for the future" DA Marco Valente, aptly called "The Puppet Master" for his ability to seemingly manipulate defence attorneys into botching cases and generally making dreadful mistakes, clapped August in the back, a proud look on his aged face. Emma didn't dislike Marco. Despite his ruthless reputation among defence attorneys he was a caring, compassionate man with a rather unfortunate belief that sometimes the end justified the means. But she was in no mood to put up with him playing matchmaker to his little protégée.

"Good evening, Mr Valente, I was just about to get…"

"Oh, nonsense, dear, don't let me interrupt this tender moment. The night is for having fun, for dancing!"

August took the unsubtle hint with more grace than she expected, but Emma tried to wiggle out of it for a split second before giving up and accepting the hand the ADA was offering. He twirled her expertly around, giving her ample time to roll her eyes before he unceremoniously plastered them both together, making some inane observation about how crowded the room dance floor was. She smiled tightly, aware of her Captain's eyes on her, a warning to "be nice and behave" or he'd make her pay come Monday morning.

"You know, you look ravishing Emma" August whispered, his dark eyes trained on her. She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, you've mentioned that… once or twice" she all but spat out, unimpressed, while she took firm hold of the hand on her back and moved it upwards, a warning in her eyes "… every time we meet. Some would even call it unprofessional"

She had lost many a cop's respect by being treated as a pretty thing called to the DA's office so the young, promising ADA could openly flirt with her and she was more than getting tired of it. But with so many eyes trained on her she had little choice but to grin and bear it. After all there was no polite way for her to bow out…

"Ah, Miss Swan. What a delight. I see you're dancing with our little wooden boy"

She recognized that low, smooth voice the second it reached her ears. Emma turned her head to a side, encountering the disturbingly-piercing gaze of Jefferson Madden, the pride and joy of Vander, Land and Associates. Founded by Erik Vander, Thomas Raines and Christopher Land, the firm had soon after faced the death of one of its three senior partners, changing the name from Vander, Raines and Land to its current one. It hadn't taken much time for "Vander, Land" to be more commonly-known as "Wonderland", and for all other literary puns to come to play. It had been almost prophetic, in retrospect, the addition of Jefferson Madden, a man who had acquired while attending Harvard a rather peculiar nickname because of his habit of prepping and sitting for all of his exams wearing an old velvet top hat. The Mad Hatter had been famously known as such well before ever coming across Vander, Land and Associates, but his nickname had spread like wildfire when he had joined. Several paralegals and junior associates had divulged the fact that his famous hat was the main feature of his office and he put it on whenever getting ready for a case, going so far as to trying to get away with wearing it in court.

He had nearly done it, too.

He had met Detective Swan while representing one poor sucker she had arrested, an influential little cousin to the Vanderbilts, which Jefferson had gotten off the hook without actually ever being nice to him. He had spent most of his time with his attention riveted in the lovely little thing that had managed to handcuff a man twice her size and break his nose in the process. She had been unimpressed, sassy and more than able to match his madness with some grounding common sense of her own, and since then he had been besotted or, like he liked to put it, "madly in love". Unfortunately so far he only knew how to show his appreciation for her witty banter and lovely temper by antagonizing her, constantly testing the limits of her self-restraint with a smile and a casual disregard towards the concept of personal space.

"Madden" August's voice interrupted their delicious little moment, and Jefferson frowned, his arms, full at the moment of Belle French, itching to wipe the ADA's condescending smile from his face. He smiled instead; the wide curving of his lips that he knew made him look deranged, and gestured to the lovely brunette in his arms.

"Change partners!" he barked suddenly, expertly twirling a willing Belle into August's arms and taking the blonde detective for his own, waltzing them away with a grace that bordered on miraculous. Emma allowed it, her relief at being away from the oily lawyer overrunning her suspicion that she had gone from the frying pan to the fire.

Jefferson was, as always, dressing a bit too Edwardian to seem normal. He had on what she believed was called a frock coat, open to reveal the patterned waistcoat beneath and the burgundy, eye-catching ascot that had allowed her to keep a discrete eye on him since he had arrived, surrounded by the high, stiff collar of his dress shirt. She surmised that this being an "enchanted evening" he had allowed himself a bit more eccentricities with his wardrobe than usual and was mildly surprised not to spot his top hat somewhere.

"Ah, Detective Swan, how absolutely breath-taking is to have your undivided attention lavished upon my person" he crooned, always an inch taller than her no matter what heels she was wearing, his mouth close to the crown of her hair "And how lovely you look when you shed your armour"

His voice was riveting; it had always been for Emma. It was almost a whisper, rough yet gentle, the voice of a storyteller. It was his true persona, the real Hatter that hid behind the façade of Jefferson Madden, star attorney. The fake Jefferson was all easy laughs and normality, the real Mad Hatter was intense and compelling and she was both afraid of him and thrilled when she was in his presence. Both a predator and a wounded victim, the Hatter would usually bask in her presence, all feverish eyes and sometimes uncomfortable amounts of physical contact she had, incredibly, grown used to over time. Then he'd ruin the moment by provoking her and she'd lash out and the fight would begin. She suspected that, for all it annoyed her, fighting with Jefferson in some ways was the highlight of her day, something she looked forward to whenever the possibility arose.

"Yeah, well, Mary Margaret was insistent about this dress. And the hairdo" she babbled, a slight blush creeping up her neck despite her best efforts to quell it. Jefferson smiled, not one of his crazy or intense smiles but a tender, understanding one.

"So the Saviour feels vulnerable, dressed up as she is in clothes she thinks do not fit"

Emma huffed.

"You keep calling me that" she remarked and he nodded, guilty as charged.

"It's the way I see you, poppet" he murmured, spinning her around to lighten to mood, feeling suddenly pretty vulnerable himself "That and gorgeous, of course" he got close enough to very lightly nip at the edge of her ear, all playfulness and hidden roughness "Good enough to eat, my dear"

She pulled back, partly embarrassed, partly pissed and all around tempted. Jefferson did that to her, confused her in ways that no man had even before, not even Graham, her most serious relationship (so serious it had taken a stray bullet to pull them apart just as they had started to build something together). She felt a stab of guilt and quickly chased it away so she could pay attention as Jefferson spun her around again, putting a bit of spice into the old, 1940's music they were currently playing till she giggled against her will, relaxing a bit in his arms and enjoying carelessly the way he smiled at her, all teeth and wickedness.

"Ah, there we are, the elusive Swan laugh" he crooned, boyish glee dancing on the edge of his lips, and he lost all his menace "I knew I'd get it out of you sooner or later"

Despite the voices in her mind still cautioning her about Jefferson, the same voices that were always vocal around the so called Hatter, she decided to enjoy herself for a little while. She was tired of having her guard up constantly and Jefferson, for all the "Danger, Will Robinson!" feelings he sparked within her, had an inherent vulnerability he displayed ever-so-willingly around her that made it impossible to feel genuinely wary of him.

"I'm rather surprised that August hasn't come intent on feeding me more fake-lemur stories" she quipped, trying to, for once, have a casual, non-confrontational conversation with the man. Jefferson smirked, turning her so she could see how Belle expertly led the attorney as far away from them as possible, giving him her best smile and a hint of flirt. Emma grimaced.

"Oh, he doesn't know he's flirting with Gold's girl, does he?" she almost sounded sympathetic, especially when she caught sight, on the other side of the room, of a very straight-backed Mr Gold, his face like stone and something dark and ugly lurking behind his gaze. The Hatter shook his head, laughter making his shoulders shake.

"Oh, no" he confirms "Belle is being a naughty little girl" he added fondly, with the sort of brotherly pride no woman could ever be jealous of "Pinocchio is in for a world of trouble if continues down that particular rabbit hole"

Emma wanted to scold him for his use of August's infamous nickname but she couldn't muster enough disapproval, instead choosing to be sort of pleased that Belle's 'old lion' would finally do something good in her eyes, namely beat August silly with his cane. She didn't dislike Gold per se, but she found him incredibly duplicitous and highly unreliable. But, then again, she thought as much about Jefferson and he allowed him more liberties than she should.

"By the way, lovely little saviour, how's the princeling? Scoring goals, I hope"

Of course, Emma thought, Jefferson would turn on his incredibly sexy 'I'm-a-concerned-single-parent' mode when her mind started wondering toward the questionable wisdom behind dancing with the Hatter. And she knew his question was sincere. For a ruthless lawyer and all-around mentally unstable man Madden was, without a doubt, the most loving parent she knew. He went to all of Grace's dance recitals, knew her favourite colour, the name of all her close friends, the brand of fabric softner that she claimed made the sheets scratchy, that she'd refuse to eat Oreos unless she could dunk them in hot tea, of all things and a million more things she found out every single time they spoke because Grace was Jefferson's life and, as much as he annoyed her, Emma couldn't get enough of him when he talked about his daughter, nor could she prevent herself from bragging about her own kid whenever he asked.

"I swear that if that kid tells me one more time not to call European football soccer he's gonna be grounded" she huffed, all pretend-annoyance that made Jefferson honestly laugh "But it's allowed him to make new friends, which is always nice. And I think he's crushing on some rival team captain. Pretty little blond with spunk"

"Mmm… I approve" there was something dark about the Hatter that drew Emma in when she knew it shouldn't but as quickly as it came it was gone. "Though I pity the father of that little girl. If she's anything like other spunky blonds I know he's in for a world of pain" he paused, a self-deprecating laugh bubbling out of his mouth "God knows Grace is getting to that special age where I will be as useful to her as a block of wood"

It was on the tip of her tongue, to volunteer to be a female presence in Grace's life, but the words got stuck to the roof of her mouth, unwilling for a moment to put herself in that position, as another person's advisor, feeling inadequate and presumptuous. Mary Margaret, she thought, she should volunteer her since she knew they were at the very least well-known acquaintances. Mary Margaret, with her proper upbringing and maternal instincts, would know all about…

"Grace already has your number, by the way… Don't look at me like that, you're a public servant and she's a bright little thing, she figured out how to cajole someone into giving her the number all on her own. She's just building up her courage to give you a call. Even since you took down that 6'3 bank robber at the hallway of the courthouse while she was picking me up for lunch she's been talking non-stop about wanting to learn kick-boxing and how all modern women should know how to properly defend themselves…" he rolled his eyes and squeezed her hip, a gesture that would have earned most other men at least a kick in the shin "I'll never be able to properly thank you for prompting my little girl to learn how to make men twice her size cry and scatter like scared little rabbits"

And he meant it, she knew that, this overprotective nut who tried to both foster his daughter's independence and shield her from the outside world and all its cruelty. So she took a leap of fate, the kind she absolutely hated, and did not stumble on her next words.

"You know, you could use it. My cell phone number, I mean. Like… this Friday. To text me the name of a good bar where we might, who knows… Bump into each other?"

"Bump into each other? Oh, detective, are you propositioning me?" Jefferson's tone was breathy and only a dash scandalized; his eyes wide and innocent "My, I never…"

Emma gave him her 'I take no nonsense' look and quite gracefully moved out of his arms, walking in the general direction of some of her friends in vice, all looking very uncomfortable in their best suits.

"Remember, Hatter boy, Friday. You snooze, you lose" she called over her shoulder, her gown fluttering behind her as she walked away from him, all power and determination.

Jefferson's grin turned maniacal again as he turned around, barely registering the now alone ADA fuming at him as he walked away from the dance floor, whistling 'White Rabbit' underneath his breath.

* * *

"Did that go well?" Mary Margaret's attempts at subtlety while spying on her best friend and her dancing partner had long been abandoned in favour or blatant staring. Ruby frowned, squinting her eyes.

"I cannot tell" she finally answered "Jeff's smiling but, then again, he is off his rocker"

She sipped her drink, a Jack Rose, trying to follow the retreating figure of Emma, evading at the same all form of eye-contact with Whale and generally most slimy men eyeing her like a piece of meat. She knew her dress, though striking and a bit risqué, was by no means inappropriate or overly-revealing and, in any case, she was not willing to dress as a nun in order to get men to respect her. She found it profoundly unfair, the notion that her looks made her less in the eyes of the people here present. Mr Gold might have been a monster- a beast in love, as of the last two years- but he had never once even given her the idea that he had dismissed her intellect on account of her appearance.

"Oh dear" the voice of Mary Margaret snapped the brunette out of her daze, and put her on alert mode.

"What? New obstacle? Jefferson being too creepy?" she enquired at once, her eyes alert and again scanning the crowd. She saw her friend looking towards a table in the far upper-right corner where five people sat: two of them obviously couple, colour-coordinated and all, and a man looking a tad uneasy in a smart tuxedo and a golden-green tie. He had glasses on and noticeable red hair, his skin even from a distance obviously freckled. He looked uncomfortable as hell, meekly sitting between the two couples, who were obviously holding a conversation over his head. One of the women in particular, a brown-haired, snooty-looking woman in her mid to late twenties with a mermaid periwinkle blue dress and the gaudiest golden seashell necklace she had ever seen, seemed to make him particularly uncomfortable, and every time she gazed in his direction she was possessively running her hands over her date's arm while, at the same time, giving the very unwilling ginger a good look down her strapless dress.

For a moment Ruby titled her head, the idea that she knew the poor fifth wheel nagging at her.

"Well, that looks cosy" Ruby commented, sarcasm coating her voice. Mary Margaret winced "And he kinda looks familiar"

"That's Archie. You remember him, right? He collaborates with the police and the FBI, apparently he's some sort of behavioural expert. Also he's Henry's shrink" Mary Margaret smiled fondly, Henry always produced that reaction in her "A total sweetheart that helped Henry when he went through that whole anxiety phase after Emma got shot during a bust three years ago. Still sees him every now and then, always clearing his schedule for the little darling"

Ruby nodded, a hazy memory making its way to the forefront of her mind, of a time some years ago, when she had been merely an intern invited to a party such as this only to be at the beck and call of a nasty woman then her boss (now an unemployed alcoholic, she had heard), and she had broken down in tears outside the ballroom, in a secluded little terrace, because she had had all the verbal abuse and the belittling she could take and she hated the itchy, long sleeved maroon dress she had been forced into wearing. Dreams of quitting had flashed through her head, thinking no one would ever take her seriously long enough to give her a chance and that she was not likely to advance in her chosen career, which had brought her so far little joy and a lot of grief.

She hadn't realized someone was already there, an awkward, fumbling man with a stammer that, as soon as he saw her crying, became this confident, nurturing figure, full of the right things to say and the right moments to offer a gentle pat on the shoulder or a handkerchief she had promptly smudged beyond repair with make-up. It was one of those monogramed deals, old school and she had laughed at the tiny embroider of a cricket in a corner. Soon enough her awful boss had texted her and she had rushed out, forgetting to return the handkerchief.

She had washed and pressed it and put it in her purse with every intention of trying to find the owner and giving it back, and a few days later she had promptly forgotten all about it.

She had never connected the kindly stranger (whom she had quite put out of her mind, she shamefully recognized) with Archie Hopper, a name that got tossed around the four of them every once in a while. Apparently he and Emma were good friends, and Mary Margaret also knew him relatively well from picking up Henry from his appointment when his mother was working a case.

"Last I remember 'what's-her-name' he had been dating for a while had dumped him when he had proposed. What did I miss?"

Clearly she had missed something cause nobody could be that uncomfortable without some underlying cause other than social awkwardness. Mary Margaret winced, gesturing towards the brunette in blue at the table.

"There she is, Dr. Vanessa Lyman, being her stereotypical bitchy self by shoving both her cleavage and her newly-acquired heart-surgeon fiancé into Archie's face" MM's words didn't particularly surprise Ruby, knowing as she did how protective of her friends the little short-haired woman was "And the other couple is her future brother-in-law and his vapid socialite wife, as you can probably tell from the slutty Armani Privé and the blank look in her eyes. Archie told me that they had been assigned to his table. I offered to trade places with him but he got all psychologist on me and said that he and Vanessa were "friends" now and he was totally okay with the situation. I should have known Vanessa wouldn't be gracious about it"

The secretary sighed, took a sip of her Bellini and frowned even more as she watched Vanessa give the very-uncomfortable Archie a falsely-sweet smile.

"It was bad enough that she broke his heart when she rejected him" as Ruby vaguely recalled when the brunette had turned down Dr Hopper she had apparently been very vocal about all of his shortcomings. Soon later she had apparently moved on to a very well-off surgeon, and had called to make sure she could remain good friends with Archie (MM was sure it had nothing to do with the man's fame in his chosen field or his success as an FBI profiler, which had gotten him mentioned in newspapers quite a lot) "But now she wants to rub her engagement in his face, God knows why"

And of course Mary Margaret couldn't even begin to fathom the why, Ruby thought, half her Jack Rose gone, because she was the embodiment of all things good and nice and, as much of a badass she could be from time to time, to defend the people she loved, to keep them happy, she didn't have it in her to hurt just for the sake of it, to feel better about oneself. She loved that about her friend.

Back at the table of five the woman called Vanessa was enthusiastically showing a very flustered and increasingly distressed-looking Archie Hopper a brochure, depicting some sandy beach that Ruby deduced was the honeymoon destination for the lucky, lucky couple. Something snapped inside her, something dark and petty and not very nice that she knew good, kind people like Mary Margaret and the nice Dr Hopper did not have inside.

"Well, I'm tired of watching this Greek tragedy" she said aloud, putting down her empty glass and turning towards a mirror to check her lipstick "I'm about to return a very overdue favour. Wish me luck!"

She smiled brilliantly at Mary Margaret before strolling confidently across her room, enjoying the fact that her beautiful red Elie Saab looked spectacular when she moved, the slit revealing enough leg to tempt without being immodest and the layers of fabric fluttering around her. The vivid colour made her particularly eye-catching so when she was close enough to the table everybody, almost against their will, turned to look. She flashed them a beautiful smile before her eyes locked with the good doctor's, making his face match his hair quite nicely.

"Hon, I'm so sorry I'm late" she apologized, looking genuinely contrite as she loosely wrapped her arms around a stunned Archibald Hopper "But I couldn't get away from the business talk until now"

She gave him another smile, as if she was trying to get him to not be mad at her before she swooped down and firmly kissed him on the lips, which were conveniently parted in surprise. Ruby hadn't expected it to feel any different than kissing someone asleep. After all she had caught the poor guy by surprise and was more than ready to fake the most passionately make-out session that polite society could accept in public. She was just glad that his lips were warm and supple and tasted of the raspberry sauce that covered the cheesecake he had been eating.

All of a sudden, though, just as her tongue darted out to trace his lips lightly, she felt him come to life, both his hands perching themselves gingerly around her waist, almost afraid to touch her, while his lips slanted across hers with more certainty, making her forget herself for a moment and hum in approval, her mouth opening to his automatically, wanting more. She felt his tongue shyly trace the roof of her mouth, all tentative and unsure and something fluttered inside her in response, making her gasp slightly and grab a handful of his hair, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way and think she wanted him to stop. One of his hands squeezed her waist, trying to ask a silent question she understood all too well so she sighed, not able to resist nipping at is bottom lip before pulling away, her hands squeezing his shoulders and her eyes trying to get him to calm down and follow her lead.

"I really am sorry, cricket" she said, the warmth in her voice strangely easy to fake. It was his face, she reasoned, so open and sweet, so devoid of any form of deceit, and he looked at her with a hint of confusion and more than a bit of awe, which is what made her comb her right hand through his hair and cup his cheek "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long"

His eyes were as wide as saucers, and when he stuttered a "No, not at all" Ruby's heart melted a bit against her will. He stood up rather stiffly and pulled out the chair next to his, never once trying to cop a feel or in any way touch her as she sat down, giving him a smile over her shoulder.

"I must admit it was not all boring business, I also hanged out a bit with Mary Margaret, Emma and Belle. We're… helping Emma out a bit, you could say"

Archie nodded, dropping into his own chair rather gracelessly, but with a look of dawning understanding spreading across his face. Now he knew what the connection between them was, and that she was a friend.

"I see… That's nice of you. Emma certainly could use a bit of girl-time" he cautiously replied. Ruby nodded, all cheer and sparkling personality before turning to the neglected four members of the table.

"Oh, hi there!" she greeted, her smile pristine "I'm sorry, I'm so rude, not even introducing myself! I'm Ruby Lowell, Archie's girlfriend"

For a moment there was utter silence at the table as both men gawked at her while the women looked from Archie to her and back to him again, puzzled. Finally Vanessa smiled, trying to recover herself and deliver a counterattack to Ruby's spectacular manoeuvre.

"Oh, hi, I'm Dr Vanessa Lyman, Archie's…"

"Former flame and current friend. I've been dying to meet you!" Ruby gushed, shaking hands with a rather shocked brunette "And this must be your fiancé"

Said fiancé was staring at the girl in red with more than polite interest in his eyes, and for once Ruby welcome the lewd looks, knowing how they would bother both women at the table. Archie, however, shot the man a disapproving look across the table, the first time he had shown any negative emotion at all, which surprised Ruby slightly.

The two couples introduced themselves to her, exchanging false pleasantries for a while before Ruby settled back, leaning against Archie's side slightly, playfully grabbing his fork and snatching up a piece of cheesecake from his plate, smiling at him.

"My favourite" she purred, a mixture of warmth, domesticity and something darker, carnal. It was meant more for their audience than for him, but for a moment Ruby forgot about them, captivated by the strange look in Archie's eyes, something akin to worship, not just appreciation for her body or her sex-appeal but more reverential, a sort of adoration she had strangely never seen before. Lurking behind that was a gentle guilt, her lie no doubt not sitting well with him.

"Well, I must admit, hon, Archie has been keeping quiet about you" it was Vanessa again, trying to worm her way between the couple and put Ruby in a defensive position "So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do? What are your interests?"

The question made Ruby smirk, knowing the intent behind it.

"I'm Junior VP of Acquisitions at Imp Inc., which really does take up most of my time but it's ever-so-fun. But I still do yoga and Pilates, though not as fervently as before, I'm afraid. But most of my free time I spend it with close friends and, of course, my cricket"

The nickname would have sounded ridiculous had she not said it with such affection and Archie coloured again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips even as he tried to look stern, not wanting to approve of whatever charade this unknown woman had decided to stage for whatever reason.

"What a… quaint term of endearment" Vanessa "So… young and fresh"

The brunette took Archie's left hand in both of his, her smile turning sheepish while he fought not to let it be too obvious that he was struggling to breathe.

"I know it might sound silly and childish but there is a story behind it. The very first time I met him I was a crying mess, upset about some silly work thing and he gave me one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs with a little cricket embroidered in a corner and I remember that no matter how awful I felt it made me smile" the wistful affection in her voice was, for once, real. She risked a glance towards the psychologist and saw him frown, look at her intently then widen his eyes in realization "He knew exactly what I needed to hear and I envied that, the ease with which he approached a complete stranger and managed to make them feel better, to understand them so deeply, empathise to such an extent. Then I found out that he was friends with a good friend of mine and the rest, as they say, is history"

She had no idea what most of what she was saying was coming from but she went along with it, trusting her instincts. She also noticed that it felt strangely comfortable to be leaning against Dr Hopper. He was surprisingly warm and solid, keeping his hands at appropriate places to a point where she actually had to manoeuvre her body so he would drape one of his arms lightly over her shoulders. At first he was stiff, uncomfortable, but as she expertly directed the conversation towards neutral subjects he relaxed beneath her, the hand resting on her shoulder unconsciously beginning to trace patterns across her skin in a pleasant manner.

Ruby felt tempted, for a moment, to stay where she was. It felt very refreshing, not to have to be on guard around a man, trying to fend off inappropriate advances and such. And she knew the moment she got him alone he'd start asking questions and whatever cosy feeling she felt with him would evaporate. But he deserved some sort of explanation and so when the music changed she squealed, grabbed Archie by the arm, said something inane about how much she loved the song and dragged him quite graciously onto the dance floor, where she wrapped her arms around him and waited for him to say something. She noted that, while he was trying to sort out his muddled thoughts, he was sure-footed and certain of his movements.

"I cannot imagine where to start, so I'll leave it to you" he finally said, his voice raspy and low in a pleasant way. She explained briefly her association with Mary Margaret, Emma and Belle (which he knew less that the first two, but seemed to recall meeting once or twice) and only stopped when he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"Oh, I see… Though I can understand you felt sorry for me lying is not the way to…"

She stopped him with a shake of her head.

"I didn't feel sorry for you" she clarified "I rather admire someone willing to be the better person in a situation. I know I couldn't, I just don't have it in me, I'm afraid. It was less to do with you and more to do with her… Vanessa" she paused, trying to collect her thoughts and put them into words "Look, I hate people who take advantage of other people's innate goodness to try and trample all over them. To spite just for the sake of it, just because you can, because the other person will not fight back… It's not right. And sometimes that type of fire can only be fought with more fire" she smiled that wolfish grin she knew was rather impressive "I may be very bad at being good, but I'm rather good at being bad"

He laughed and blushed, ducking his head.

"And, the bit about the handkerchief…"

"I never put two and two together. Mary Margaret and Emma speak often of you, the ever-perfect Dr Hopper, a paragon of virtue with, if I'm not mistaken, the coolest Dalmatian ever and a rather disturbing attachment to a certain umbrella" she laughed when he blushed again "And I had almost forgotten about the stranger who had given me a helping hand when I had needed it, I'm sorry to say. Which is awful, considering what it meant at the time"

MM and James passed dancing by and the woman's clear 'You owe me an explanation Ruby Lowell' face almost made the girl in question laugh. She mouthed a 'Later' that seemed to do the trick and turned her attention back to her partner.

"Well, since you seem to be stuck with me for the time being, I guess this is the perfect time to ask what I've been dying to know for a while now" she made a big deal of the whole thing, even pausing to create an air of suspense which forced the good doctor to lean close in a way Ruby was surprised she enjoyed "Why crickets?"

Archie blinked, startled by the question and blushed some more, the red reaching his collar while he fumbled for words.

"It's a silly reason, really" he stuttered, pushing his glasses up with a shaky hand "When I was a little boy, my parents were travelling salesmen… Con artists, really" he seemed surprised to be talking, but not uncomfortable "We moved from town to town, through rural America, looking for these backwater, quaint little towns full of the people my parents were experts at cheating money from… I hated it, not only what they did to the people but the constant moving, living on an RV, never having any stability. But no matter where I was, when it got dark and I'd want to get away for a while, there always were crickets, chirping away, my only company in the night. Friendly creatures, crickets, and fascinating too. Do you know that female crickets do not chirp?" his tone changed to enthusiastic, and Ruby's heart melted even more, both from the story and from the psychologist's passion for an insect.

"Really?" she enquired, a smile on her face that found its match in Archie's "Tell me more"

"The males do, and they have a calling chirp, the loudest, meant to attract females and repel males, and a courting one, for when the female is near. They also chirp when they fight other males or sense danger"

His boyish charm was strangely appealing and when he started talking about something he liked he lit up, his stuttering disappearing and his movements no longer hesitant. They talked about books and movies, music they liked, and Ruby did not feel once that he humoured her or thought her choices or suggestions of poorer taste. They had much more in common than either at first suspected. Both were religious followers of Dr Who and loved Bang Camaro (Ruby could not picture the good doctor listening to it, but she had to agree he knew a lot of the songs), preferred fall to any other season and loved dogs (Ruby claimed, quite rightly, that for some reason all dogs seemed to love her).

When they had worn themselves out they went back to the table, content to let the two other couples generally exclude them from whatever heated debate about the advantages of liposuction over a tummy tuck they were having, leaning close together to have their own little conversation.

A few feet away Mary Margaret instructed Emma to pick her jaw off the floor.

"Well, I never saw this one coming" the detective said when she could finally speak again. Her friend smiled from ear to ear, looping her arms through the blonde's.

"They look so good together, Em!" she gushed, her eyes sparkling and her face beaming. She looked ready to plan a wedding, or at least an engagement party.

"Now that you mention it… Archie could use someone like Ruby around to bring a bit of fun into his life, if you catch my drift" Emma wagged her eyebrows playfully, pretending to be hurt when MM smacked her for her unladylike behaviour.

"And Archie is such a decent guy. It was about time Ruby met one" she paused and looked around "Where's Belle, anyway?" she asked, frowning "Please don't tell me August is still pestering her cause then he's gonna be out of a job come Monday, by the way my boss was looking at him a few moments ago"

Emma craned her neck from side to side and then pointed at Belle's table.

"Look, there she is, safe and sound having copious amounts of unresolved sexual tension with her creepy boyfriend while her equally creepy boss sits in between them getting off on not letting them get off. All's right with the world" she nudged her friend towards the bar "Come on, I just recently gave in to what promises to be a very bad idea so I need to get sloshed ASAP"

While one might frown at Detective Swan's colourful use of language her description was rather spot on. After managing to pry herself away from the star ADA Belle had made a few rounds, greeting all the other members of Uni Global invited to the Gala and exchanging a few words with business acquaintances and the like, not at all eager to go back to longingly staring at the object of both her most tender affections and darker desires while her lovable yet completely psycho boss kept them apart because of some stupid contract she hadn't agreed to on the first place.

But she had found herself wondering back eventually, her skin itching to even brush softly against the fine fabric of his suit jacket or, if she was lucky, the silky texture of his hair. She had felt rather cruel, letting her fingers briefly caress the nape of his neck as she approached her own chair, because she had felt him shiver beneath her fingertips, and as it was often the case whenever she became aware of the power she held over him it frightened her to a point. But as he had reciprocated by nonchalantly letting the metallic handle of his cane trace a soft path against her spine she had felt better, the realization that he held as much power over her strangely comforting.

'twas a pity, really, that Mal hadn't left the table and was still firmly planted in her seat, a drink in hand and a smirk in place. Any other seating arrangement would have posed no problem for the couple, as Belle could embarrassingly recall an occasion, quite seared into her memory, when Nicholas had shown her the way he could play 'footsies' with his cane. She had had to bite her tongue as Nick had pressed the tip of his cane against her clit like he could magically guess where it was, alternating between rubbing her through her soaked underwear and firmly pushing against her covered opening, looking to everyone at the table like the picture restraint and poise as he had teased her into her first public orgasm, which had left her face red and her composure quite shattered.

Later that night, hours after the party had been over, she had shown up at his house, dragged him forcefully by his hair till he was sprawled over his beautiful dinner table and, quite unceremoniously, mounted him, batting his hands away as they had tried to tear at her clothes and grab whatever bit of skin they could find. She had made quick work of her skirt and his pants, leaving him with a torn dress shirt, ripped open in a moment of breathless delight and herself with a sheer blouse, opened by his persistence alone. She had not bothered with undergarments before coming over so her sheer white stockings were the only other fabric obscuring her body, however little.

She had ridden him in a savage, merciless way she had never imagined herself capable of, not knowing if she was getting more pleasure out of grinding against him with brutal force or out of staring into his eyes, as wild then as they had been composed earlier, hungry and mad, not a trace of the usual calmness with which he did everything in life. He had finally anchored both hands to the sides of the table to enable his body to arch upwards, matching her rhythm with thrusts of his own, moaning that she looked like a warrior goddess, like the great Scathach, legendary trainer of Ulster heroes and protagonist of countless epic tales, a beauty forged in steel and fire, smoke and blood. His tone had been raspy and dreamy, the awe present in it coating every deliciously-accented word, making her feel powerful and worshipped, a deity enjoying the feverish prayers of her most faithful and devoted priest. The fire from the fireplace, the only source of light in the room, had added to the strange, reverential atmosphere, making her glow and him be cast mostly in shadows, two halves of a whole.

He had come first, his eyes wide and his look haunted, as if he had displeased her when it had been her intention from the very beginning to make him come apart before he could undo her. Not one to let things be he had thrust even deeper into her, using the fact that she had been distracted by his orgasm to move his hands from the edges of the table, one resting a little lower to the small of her back to press her more against him and the other quickly locating the small bundle of nerves beside his buried cock and capturing it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting in one swift motion that was enough to send her over the edge, her release catching her by surprise and making her collapse atop him. The need for revenge gone she had nuzzled against the juncture between his neck and left shoulder, one of her hands lazily stroking his hair.

"I didn't pull on it too hard, did I?" she had asked in voice both guilty and sated, languid. He had laughed, his own fingers sinking into her hair, her glorious curls splayed against the expensive mahogany of the rather sturdy table and glinting in the dim light of the fire.

"My hair is yours to do with it whatever you like" he had replied, both playful and dead serious "Everything of me is yours to command" he had added, the feverish spark of veneration back in his eyes, warming her all over. She had raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling about her face.

"Even your cane?" she had enquired impishly, finally tugging his face to her to give him an open-mouthed kiss, more of a communion of air than a passionate lip-lock.

"Yes" he had rasped out, his mouth chasing hers as she had pulled away "Even my bloody cane"

Belle snapped out of those very inappropriate thoughts, a blush stealing across her face. Her eyes scanned her fellow table-mates, noticing that Mason and his two women were gone and that the Adams men were busy talking with another man about Jasper Adam's age. Even Mal, by some sort of miracle, was busy chatting over the phone with some sort of "colossal twit" from London. But as her eyes settled on the last person, Gold, she realized he was looking at her fixedly, his eyes dark and trained on her with an fierce sort of intensity that felt as palpable as a hand caressing her skin beneath the gold she wore. He promised things with his eyes, dark and disturbing and utterly delicious, taking his cane between his hands and softly, almost absentmindedly in the eyes of a passer-by, caressing the polished wood with long, deft fingers.

Her breath hitched, chest heaving slightly and, just as she thought she could make it through the rest of the night without a hitch and get her well-deserved rewards afterwards trouble reared its head again.

A head, this time, sporting a lovely velvet hat.


	3. Part 3

**At last, the conclusion of this Never-Ending monster fic. Thank you for all your lovely reviews and PMs. As always if you like and you want, review.**

**And I'm sorry to say I have a thousand more plot bunnies running around. I apologize in advance for any future Rumbelle AUs.**

* * *

"Well, I must say you're holding up better than I thought you would" Mal's voice, sweet as honey, grated at Gold's ears, but he pursed his lips and bared it with as much grace as he could "Let this be a lesson, Nick, about the contracts that you sign and thinking things through before drafting them"

It was a low blow, to tease Nicholas Gold about the fine art of deal-making, but he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from reacting, knowing that to discuss that particular piece of paper wouldn't exactly endear him to his lady-love, who was currently, if he was interpreting her delightful gold-tinted blush correctly, having some marvellous thoughts about him.

"You live to underestimate me, dearie, not a very wise move" he replied, a soft chiding tone to his voice. It was a strange sort of friendship the one he had with the woman most of the business world called "The Dragon Lady", a prickly sort of person by nature, made only worse by the betrayals of those close to her. No sooner had the thought popped into his head that, as if summoned, he spied a figure in black, wearing too much lipstick and showing a bit more cleavage than any civil servant ever should, slinked its way to their table.

Regina Mills was a name people did not utter in the financial district, a whispered curse that could get one fired if used in the presence of anyone with power. An agent of the Securities and Exchange Commission, she was known for blurring the lines between the legal and the illegal to "get the job done". Vengeful to a fault and clearly pursuing her own agenda she used her position in the regulatory entity to advance her allies and smite her enemies, amassing vast amounts of power while maintaining the image of a devoted public servant, relentless in her desire to see corruption and amoral business practices forever stricken from the business world.

Gold had sized her up pretty early on, when she had still been fresh and not as good in the game as she was now, and had taken careful measures to ensure he would forever hold more power over her than she did over him. They had come to blows once or twice, never actually making it all the way to the courthouse. He had armed himself with powerful allies and made deals with people so high up the political food chain he was veritably untouchable.

Once upon a time Mallory had seen things different. She had always been a relentless bitch in business, but as much as she had relished getting to the top, she had also realized it was rather a sad, lonely place, and hadn't earned her any friends at all, rather the opposite. So when she had casually 'bumped' into a smart woman her age who hadn't seem put off by the sarcasm that coated her every word or the size of her beloved empire she had been quick to befriend her, at first keeping her guard up when she had realized where Regina worked with but eventually letting it slide, knowing that as much as paranoia was good for business it could only last so many months.

They had quickly become inseparable, hanging at Mal's place or in her office, but seldom in Regina's own flat, which she maintained was a cluttered mess. They had been to the spa together, to the movies, going to lunch whenever the opportunity arose and generally enjoying a kinship Mal had never before experienced.

Apparently, she had been wrong. One day she had been eating sushi and complaining about her latest failed affair with a laughing Regina and the next she had been practically shunned by every single one of her business contacts, no reasons given. She had called every single one of them, shouting to terrified assistants and stuttering secretaries before one of her own employees, the head of her security and her best recon man, finally got wind of what had been going on: it seemed that a major investigation had been issued by the S&E commission, with a lot of big names being prosecuted for rather heavy charges, and all those people had had in common had been their dealings with Uni Global, even though said empire had not been indicted. Word had quickly spread that Mallory Ficient had granted insight into these companies' shady business practices through the access she had gained into the companies' themselves when doing business with them.

Mal had clung to the idea, stupid in retrospective, that it was all a major misunderstanding. She hadn't given Regina anything, and she had never asked for anything like that. Not one suspicious question, or a hesitant hint, no subtle prodding of any kind. She knew Regina, she was sure, and she wouldn't do that to her. _They were friends_.

She had gone to Regina's flat, a rather chic affair in Tribeca, to get her side of the story. She had been nice as always, offering her a cup of coffee and an apple turnover she had just baked that very morning. And when she had bitten into it she had said that all those awful allegations were totally true.

She had almost choked on the pastry.

"What?" she had spat out, her eyes wide and incredulous.

"Oh, come now, Mal, don't look so shocked" Regina had replied, all sickly sweet and serene "Surely you had to see this one coming. It's business, it's how it works"

"But… Why? I mean, I thought we were…"

"Friends?" Regina's smile had made Mallory nauseous "Oh, please, Mal, women like you and I… we don't have friends. We have people we use and people who use us"

The blond businesswoman had stood there, dumbfounded, until Regina's smile had turned into a laugh and she had felt her shame turn her veins to ice. She had gone and never looked back again. But learning the lesson hadn't been enough. In the eyes of the business world she had become damaged goods. No one would do business with her, or even take her calls or see her in person. Several of her employees had moved on to greener pastures and most of her overseas enterprises were quickly collapsing.

In her moment of desperation she had turned to the last person she had ever thought she'd come to for help. It had been a rather painful call to make but it had gotten him to come meet her at her office after hours. They had sat in silence for a while, Mal very aware that she looked like she hadn't slept in months and aged years in days. Gold had been impossible to gauge, his appearance as impeccable as always and his eyes obscured by tinted glasses.

"Mal" he had said at last "What have you done?"

She had proclaimed her innocence vehemently, only to have him wave her words away.

"I know you didn't hand over anything to that conniving bitch, Mal" he had muttered, his expression vaguely annoyed "You did something even worse. You trusted her. You let her into your office, into your home. You left her alone with your files, your computers, with your fucking empire. How could you have been so stupid?"

She had taken it all, with a grace few else could have mustered. She had gritted her teeth and nodded at all those accusations, made worse by the fact that they were utterly true, and then had meekly asked for his help.

Surprisingly he had said yes. He'd go into business with her, a joint venture he had been planning for a while, and the fact that Imp Incorporated had decided to do business with Uni Global would heal whatever damage Regina had done to her reputation. Gold was the top, the end of the line, no one more powerful, no one more worthy of trust. Gold was never fooled, not by anyone.

He had demanded an outrageous price. It had been the most disadvantageous deal she had ever made, the taste of it bitter and sour, burning the blood in her veins. The anger had not been directed at Gold… Had she been in his position she would have done exactly the same, and he had been more gracious about it than she had expected. It was herself she had loathed, as Uni Golbal had risen from the ashes, a wounded pet she had allowed to come to harm and now crawled back to her side, ever the loyal companion. She had hardened herself more then, vowing she would never find herself again so deceived by anyone else.

She had since then paid her debt to Gold, no longer a sword of Damocles hanging over her head, and had managed to become a bit more than civil with him, finding a sort of understanding with the fellow CEO. But she lived with the scars of what had almost been, and the memory of the apple turnover and what had been said over tea with a friend. She had at first been wary of Belle, no matter how much the girl did not remind her of Regina, and that wariness had doubled when she had discovered her "association" with Gold. She trusted the Scotsman as far as she could throw him, in spite of the fact that he never lied and always honoured his agreements, and she hadn't been able to quite believe at first that someone like Belle, young and pretty, gentle, smart and a dash cunning, could possibly be with Nicholas out of affection. She had been proven wrong, Belle's obnoxious determination and unnatural good cheer eating at her defences till they were but dust in the wind. Two years later she was glad to have nothing but good things to say about the girl. She hadn't realized, really, how much in need of a potential second in command she had been, how limited her company's growth had been because of her reluctance to rely on anyone but herself.

Regina would still come sniffing from time to time, an inevitable face among certain crowds, and she had instructed Belle not to engage the black-haired woman in any form of conversation. Her assistant had heard the rumours so she hadn't questioned her boss, striving to be as invisible as possible despite being the protégée of one of the most powerful businesswomen in America and the girlfriend of the master of Wall Street. Regina had tried and failed to rouse her anger or any other response, so she had let it slide, convinced both tycoons were merely trifling with the girl, a passing amusement on both their parts.

One such occasion in which it seemed to be impossible not to run into Regina Mills, sadly, seemed to be a lavish charity event, and so Mal is relatively prepared, though never pleased, to see her old and dear 'friend' slinking towards their table, wrapped rather sinfully in black Zac Posen, a mermaid-style dress with a small train she sort of wished someone would accidentally step on and tear.

"Oh, Regina, what a delight to see you" the blond CEO drawled, a polite smile on her face "Ever the picture of decorum and modesty, as if befits a civil servant"

What had once been forced ease now came to Mallory more readily, time having taken most of the sting out of meeting Regina. Most, but not quite all. At her side she could feel Gold tensing, his eyes fighting not to dart towards Belle and draw attention to her.

"Delightful to see you too Mal, dear" the reply was honey-sweet and equally unpleasant "Keeping our mutual friend company, I see"

Her eyes rested on Gold, who gave her a nod and a smile that no one would ever mistake for anything even close to friendly. It almost cracked when the newcomer turned her attention towards the surprisingly blank Belle, who seemed rather absorbed in checking something on her phone.

"Be a dear, Verna, and leave us grown-ups to catch up" she murmured, prompting her slightly with a tap of her fingers against her clothed shoulder. Belle looked up, as if just noticing the newcomer, and rose from her seat, glancing at Mal to see her nod before quickly mumbling something about 'talking to a friend' and making a swift exit. Both CEOs relaxed a bit after the girl's hasty departure, but hid it as well as they did everything else.

"Well, it's nice to have a chance to sit down and unwind over fine food and music, isn't it?" Regina stirred her drink, a Washington Apple served in a Martini glass, with the apple wedge that had served as decoration, popping the wet piece of fruit into her mouth with slow, careful movements.

"Yes, dearie, I quite imagine this must seem like fine food and music to your… rustic palate" Gold replied, his tone cordial and engaging even as his eyes mocked her from where he sat.

"Nick, play nice" Mal chided, looking as disinterested as ever "After all, Regina does so much to try and fit in. Look at that Zac Posen. She must have starved herself for weeks in order to get the money to buy it, even though it's last season. Which, of course, completely worked in your favour, darling. You couldn't have pulled it off with the extra ten pounds you used to carry around along with your knock-off purse"

"My brand new Boxter S Porshe would quite disagree with your apparent grasp of my finances" Regina replied, venom in her voice. She hated being called financially inferior, even though in this crowd she most certainly was "Cherry red, one of the first models in the country to date. Will cost a fortune to insure, but one has to be careful"

The barbs were petty and small, meant to dissuade conversation rather than hurt or outright insult, but Regina seemed adamant to stay, and neither businessperson doubted that she had some sort of hidden intention other than to annoy them. To walk away was not an option, but Mal was still very aware of how under her skin Regina could get.

They made idle chitchat, Gold choosing to check his e-mail and do some business from his smartphone, making it very clear that Regina did not warrant more than five minutes of his attention, and Mal made inane comments about the weather, the state of the roads, the recent cut backs on government spending ("Dear, I'm so sorry they slashed your salary like they did, such a tragedy") and the most recent divorce scandal. The awkward conversation stretched on and on, and Regina looked increasingly more and more comfortable lounging on Belle's chair and nursing her blood-red cocktail. Finally it was Gold who grew tired of Regina's presence (or Belle's absence, Mal wasn't quite sure which grated on his nerves more) and asked Regina point blank if she wasn't meant to be mingling more.

"After all, I know connections mean everything to someone… like you" he added, just because he could. Regina's mouth twisted into an ugly and satisfying sneer before rearranging itself into a smile.

"Well, yes, making the rounds is a necessary evil, but I thought I could give it up for one night and reacquaint myself with an old friend" she brushed a manicured hand along Mal's left arm in a gesture of pretend affection "I thought it would be good to get over our little disagreement and get back to being in good terms in this very public, popular event, the biggest of the year, so everyone can see we have put our differences behind us at last"

The meaning of her words made Mal's stomach turn, and she could suddenly feel everyone's eyes on her, questioning her, remembering the last time Mal had been seen with the brunette from the S&E Commission and what had happened then.

"What are you playing at, Regina?" the blonde spat out, trying to maintain as much of her composure as possible. The other woman smile, a horrible sight, and shrugged her bared shoulders.

"I want… us to get along. Work together. I need someone on the inside, so to speak, and you served me so well in the past… People don't have to suspect you, I'd be careful this time around. Mal, dear, you should really consider this. Because if you don't agree I'll accept it, but I'll stick around long enough to make people wonder, dear, whether you weren't acting a bit too chummy with the bitch who supposedly stabbed you in the back"

Mal swore under her breath.

"You say no one needs to now, my dear, yet you spout your lies in front of my number one competitor" she tilted her head towards Nicholas, who was arching an eyebrow and looking vaguely amused, mostly to cover his increasing disgust with the conversation.

"I very much doubt dear old Nick would make any moves against you, Mal, taking into account he's been fucking your quaint little assistant for years, and he's become addled by the trampy little chit"

For a moment Gold's entire boy stiffened, hands clenching around the handle of his cane, coming close to bending the metal. He fought against the urge to pull his lips back into a snarl, studiously keeping his facial expression as neutral as possible as he thought up names for Regina that came from his time in the most questionable parts of Glasgow, when he used to fight for sport and money and drink himself silly. He surreptitiously glanced over towards his little Belle, busy texting someone over the phone, a Raspberry Fizz in her idle hand.

"Well, Regina, you can rest assured that, Nick or no Nick, I'd never make the mistake of spending time willingly with you again"

The woman in black smiled, her red lips stretching over her face in a rather grotesque fashion.

"Then I guess I'll stay here, trying to convince you to change your mind, and people will probably misunderstand this little encounter as something else"

Maleficient bristled inside, more than ready to make an awful spectacle of herself. Better to lose her standing in society than her business reputation… again. He grabbed her drink, suddenly glad she had asked for a refill moments ago, and was about to throw it at Regina's over-the-top couture gown when a shrill noise made her pause. Regina made a little moue of displeasure, fished her Blackberry out of her clutch and sighed when she saw the called.

"What do you want Sidney?" she drawled, impatient "… yes, that's the model… Gods, Sidney, yes, it's a one of a kind, how many times do I have to…" Regina's face went completely blank and when she spoke again it was in a high-pitched, disbelieving tone "What do you mean the bottom of the East River?"

The last was spoken so loudly people from other tables turned to stare at the agent in disapproval. She seemed not to notice it as she continued to spit things into her cell phone.

"Are you sure that's what you heard through the police scanner? Sid, if you are not one hundred per cent sure… Cherry red, yes. No, there was no room and I was not about to drive home and take a fucking cab!"

She directed one last, strained smile towards both Mal and Gold before she quickly made her way out of the room, or at least as quickly as any woman wearing a skin-tight mermaid dress could move. It was an amusing sight, Mal decided as he sipped her drink, watching Regina take small but quick steps and dodge countless people. She felt Gold chuckle by her side and a strange sort of camaraderie wrapped itself around them.

"Well, that was anticlimactic as Hell" she quipped, going back to looking bored and jaded. Belle re-joined them at the table, pretending she didn't notice the tension lingering in the air, intent on demurely wiping her plate clean of the cheesecake she had ordered as desert.

"I do wonder what all that ruckus was about" Nick enquired softly, his face alight with curiosity and glee… and a good dose of lust, as he watched Belle clean her fork of all remnants of raspberry sauce with a careful drag of her tongue. It didn't take long for the story to reach them. After all they were surrounded by policemen, most of which gossiped like old wives. Mary Margaret had been the one to deliver the news, after having heard the whole thing from her detective friend, Miss Swan.

Apparently Regina had decided to part her quarter-of-a-million dollars, one-of-a-kind Porsche on the sidewalk after being informed that, unfortunately, there was no more room at the hotel's parking lot. Someone had decided to take the shiny new toy for a joyride, a drunk, witnesses said, and had sadly decided to park it on the bottom of the East River, some blocks away from the ballroom. They hadn't found the driver, but it was widely believed that he had managed to escape a rather unpleasant death and had staggered off into the night, never to be seen again.

"How tragic" Mal deadpanned, her eyes dancing with mirth "Didn't she just tell us she hadn't had it insured yet?"

"Let that be a lesson for next time" Nick sentenced, being even less subtle about his total enjoyment of Regina's predicament. Belle arched an eyebrow, shaking her head when he let out a disturbing little giggle at the end of his sentence. For all his poise and control every now and then she glimpsed a side of Nicholas that was almost… impish.

"Dear, I think your purse is vibrating… I do hope that's your phone" Mal's voice lured her away from thoughts of her love, and she quickly grabbed her clutch and took out her shiny black cell phone, pressing the answer button and holding it to her ear. When she spoke her tone was warm and cheery, tinged with relief.

"Jean-Luc, at last! I was beginning to worry… Yeah, I know, job well done… Of course, that was the deal, we are square now, next time I need your services while you're in town I'll pay like the rest. Do say hi to Honoré, and tell her that facilier recipe was really helpful. Ok, have a safe flight, bye!"

She pressed the "end" button on her phone and stashed it away.

"A French friend, Belle? Do tell me he's the guy you're finally leaving this old thing for" she pointed with her now empty martini glass to her right, where Nick was sitting, head tilted to a side.

"No, just an old friend who was in town for a couple of days and owed me a favour"

"Oh, why so vague on the details, dear? This favour you speak of sounds juicy"

Belle coloured, shaking her head.

"Nothing of the sort, I'm afraid. But… Let's just say that what he does is not strictly legal"

"My, my, my little Belle hangs around more men of dubious morals than I knew of" the voice of the CEO of Uni Global was mocking but playful "What is he, anyway? A mass murderer?" Belle shook her head, snorting "Mmm… Money launderer! No? Forger!"

Belle laughed, still shaking her head. Then she reclined in her seat, a devious smile spreading across her face that had Nick staring at her intently, leaning forward to catch her softly-spoken words.

"Car thief" she paused, then added almost as an afterthought "You know Regina once made Mary Margaret cry? Just because she could, for no other reason whatsoever. Mary Margaret, the sweetest girl on Earth. It never sat well with me"

For a moment there was nothing but silence as her revelation sunk in. The brunette smiled once more, this time a full and innocent gesture, before she frowned and cursed under her breath, rising from the table just as the two Adams returned to their seats.

"Oh, damn, Mal, Cecilia from Accounting seems to have had one too many drinks. I'll get her into a cab, don't worry"

The two CEOs watched as the girl in gold walked away, at the same time hurried and poised, then looked at each other, dumbfounded, torn between utter shock and fledging pride.

"… Is this your fault or mine?" Mal asked finally asked. Gold, eyes wide, shrugged.

"Both?" he tentatively offered, only to shake his head "Neither" an odd sort of look took over his features, feverish and satisfied at the same time "I've always known there was a bit of a mean streak hidden inside Belle. I just didn't know how deep it went"

Mal decided to ignore the fact that the Scotsman had practically purred the last words. Leave it to Gold to like a bit of evil in his otherwise purer-than-the-driven-snow little girlfriend.

* * *

By the time Belle returned the Adams had managed to strike an interesting conversation with both Gold and Mal, so the brunette simply sat back and enjoyed the pleasure of staring at her man, because the word boyfriend seemed rather incongruous when applied to Nicholas Robert Gold. She had been without him for a month, and the part of her that was independent and self-assured had suffered a low blow when it had become clear that she did not function properly without Nick by her side. She had missed him in bed, merely a warm body draped around her, or when reading the newspaper, his amusing quips and sharp insights absent. She had missed the smell of him, his horrible moods and stupid insecurities, his small gestures of affection and endearing quirks.

Suddenly the party seemed to have dragged on too long, and she toyed with the idea of letting Mal know she was "awfully jetlagged" and wanted to go home and sleep it off, no matter the fact that her boss would not buy her flimsy excuse for a second.

So lost was she in her own thoughts that she let out a startled gasp when she felt hands on her shoulders urging her to stand up.

"You golden goddess, you divine being" a voice, vehement and deep, muttered close to her ear. She was turned around and promptly enveloped in a bone-crushing hug "You delightful little angel from above, mistress of my dreams, Queen of my Heart!"

She furrowed her brow.

"Jefferson?" she muttered, completely confused "What…?"

Whatever words she was about to say died on her lips as the lawyer crushed her to him once more. He then pulled her back, holding her at arm's length and grinning like a madman.

"Hatter, please, what have I told you about respecting other people's personal space" she hissed, a blush creeping up her neck and spilling over her cheeks. Jefferson laughed, all giddy, nervous energy, completely disregarding her words.

"You have made me the happiest of men. I love you" he cried out before cupping her face in his hands and soundly kissing her nose, lingering in the disturbing way he usually did. His hands obscure the view of all her face, so it did look, if caught at a certain angle, as if the attorney was snogging her in the middle of the ballroom. Belle grabbed his wrists, trying to pry him away before the inevitable ugliness happened.

She was, of course, not fast enough.

"Madden" the mellifluous, heavily-accented voice was akin to a soft growl and was swiftly accompanied by a jab to the back of one of the Hatter's knees, causing him to lose his balance and release Belle.

"Mr Gold" Madden was all smiles, utterly unapologetic "Didn't see you skulking there. How are you this fine evening?"

"Fed up" the curt reply was an ominous warning Jefferson did not heed "What on Earth do you think you're doing with Miss French?"

The possessive edge to his tone was plain for all to listen, and even Mal got a bad feeling. She threw a warning gaze towards the careless young man, who remained utterly oblivious.

"I'm expressing my utter devotion towards her, of course" he laughed "She's rendered me a great service, so I thought I would prostrate myself at her feet and worship her as my most benevolent goddess"

As much fun as Belle considered Madden's eccentric behaviour to be, this time she did not find it at all amusing. Nicholas looked deceptively calm but there was something dark and ugly in his eyes, something that had been brewing for hours, ever since she had first taken off her coat to reveal her playful attire. And it seemed that Jefferson was going to be on the receiving end of all that simmering anger if he didn't stop being so… Well, so Jefferson.

"Miss French has warned you about respecting her personal space, Mr Madden. More than once, I believe. You ought to pay attention and heed her words, boy, before your firm finds itself short one important client"

Vander, Land and Associates had been retained as Mr Gold's legal counsel a long time ago, so he was counted amongst their most loyal and important clients.

"I very much doubt, Mr Gold, that you would let your personal… animosity towards me dictate your business decisions" the lawyer taunted, now amused to play cat-and-mouse with Gold. Belle scowled at both men, but was mostly ignored.

"Oh, dear boy, I wouldn't poke the sleeping beast" Mal warned, a serious edge to her words. Madden laughed, displaying his usual lack of common sense.

"I'm sure the old boy will agree with me on my assessment of the situation" he replied, rocking on the balls of his feet and flashing Belle a quick smile and a wink. Gold leaned back on his chair, titling his head to a side.

"Ah, you caught me. It was indeed an empty threat. I seldom make those, it takes an observant eye to catch me in a lie" he shrugged, the very picture of a gracious loser. The lawyer grinned, happy to have scored a point in his favour.

"By the way, Madden, how is that little pearl of yours? Grace, isn't it?" Gold paused, his eyes not missing the Hatter's lips uncurling, setting into a straight, harsh line "I imagine she's quite happy with her close circle of friends and such. I happen to know the key members of the board of directors of her school, all old poker buddies of mine" it had been, after all, the way Mary Margaret had gotten Henry accepted on a scholarship, not that Emma knew "Stressful job, that. Deciding which kids get in, who need to sadly be denied a spot on the next school year… I can't imagine how they do it"

Jefferson stilled, barely breathing as he digested the older man's words. His eyes narrowed, mouth tightening to keep some very interesting words from spilling out of his lips. He tensed all over, breathing deeply in an effort not to be impulsive, because Grace had been mentioned and she deserved every ounce of his self-control.

"I see" he ground out, twisting his lips into a mockery of a smile "I apologize, Belle, for the impromptu display of affection. I think I'll go talk to Marchie, I see him waving from his table. If you all would excuse me"

He half-bowed, with as much dignity as he could while making a hasty exit, and promptly swirled around, getting lost among the sea of people still mingling about. For a moment there was only silence at the table, thick and uncomfortable and obviously the calm before a rather nasty storm.

"What the Hell was that?" Belle's voice was soft but had a sharp edge to it. Her eyes were like daggers, but Gold wrapped himself up in his wounded pride and glared right back, thoughts about the last month forgotten now that his most primitive side demanded that he defend his completely justifiable actions.

"He was being a nuisance, dearie, I got rid of him" he replied, words clipped and nostrils flaring. His cane was again getting the brunt of his rage "It's a simple as that"

He knew he sounded patronizing, but he couldn't seem to stop, no matter how much he wanted to.

"No, what you did was threaten a devoted father with completely annihilating his child's happiness" she retorted, a dark look about her face, a mixture or anger and disappointment.

"I'm sorry if he misinterpreted my innocuous observations, dearie" he opened his arms wide, his face clearly unrepentant. Belle's dark look was tinged with disappointment, which stung more than the businessman cared to admit.

"You're a beast" she accused, her words cutting even as her tone remained soft "Mal, if you don't mind, I think I'll say goodbye to my friends and head home. I'm a bit tired, all of a sudden" when she rose she was stiff as a board, her eyes dodging everyone else's.

"Sure, dear, no problem" Mal tentatively replied, shooting a murderous look at Gold as the girl turned to leave the table in search of her friends. Nicholas, by her side, seemed at once unrelenting and apologetic, dawning finally on him what and, most importantly, in front of whom. He was seldom bashful about being a bastard from time to time. Exercising a bit of power every now and then was not only oddly satisfying but entirely necessary for a man of his position. It kept people from becoming so overly familiar with him that they forgot he was, just like Belle had said, a dangerous beast, not their friend, or their confidant, or even an empathetic acquaintance. It's how he had survived in the world he lived in, by playing the game better than anyone else, and said game was, most of the time, ruthless. He had come to enjoy it too much, he had done things not to be proud of. But he had learnt the fine art of restraint when he had realized that power and exercising it came with a price.

He had restrained himself even more after meeting Belle, not because he was unsure she wouldn't accept him, wicked side an all, but because she had made him want to be a better man, and he was at a point in his life when he could very well afford it. Except now he had slipped, and not in a way Belle would understand – he had not been cutting down a competitor, nor ensuring his company got a better deal on a business- but in a personal, fairly underhanded way.

He had done what he had because he could, and he had wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less. And though he was quite sure Belle would forgive him after calming down he still felt rotten. Being in the outs with Belle was an uncomfortable, unwelcome experience. Especially when it was his own dam fault.

"Nice going, you idiot" Mall muttered besides him, rolling her eyes "Now you'll never get any, and you can't even blame me for it"

"Shut it, Mal"

* * *

"Well, someone looks surly" Emma offhandedly commented, enjoying a piña colada with gusto "Let me guess… Gold was a bit of a bastard, and you got pissed. Big surprise there, by the way"

Mary Margaret elbowed her blond friend rather sharply before giving Belle an understanding look. The brunette found herself retelling what had happened, leaning close to an abandoned table with a couple of dirty plates and some empty champagne flutes. Emma's reaction did nothing to help her mood, but MM, more used to her boss's rather unfortunate and dangerous temper, was more understanding.

"You do know you're gonna end up forgiving him, right?" Emma pointed out, pragmatic as always "I mean, he's said and done worse"

"I know" Belle admitted "I just… I missed him so much. And now I can't just pretend that what he did didn't happen, and I'm really angry at him now but… I don't want to be angry. I want to make up for the last month that I didn't get to see him"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I know how much you looked forward to a more… private reunion" the raven-haired woman managed to look unaffected by the indirect mention of her boss having sex "For what it's worth I think he was just taking out his frustrations of tonight with Jefferson. I don't think he'd have really gone through with the threat, and you kinda have to admit Jeff, as great as he is, can be a bit of a nuisance"

Emma snorted, agreeing with the last part of her friend's speech rather emphatically.

"Well, on to cheerier stuff… Is that Ruby I see draped all over Dr Hopper?" Belle enquired, genuinely wanting to both change the subject and know how that had happened.

"Yeah, apparently, from what she has been able to text us, she's doing Archie a solid by pretending to be his hot girlfriend in front of his snooty ex. She's also texted us like a hundred times that Archie is 'such a sweetheart' and that his freckles are adorable, so we're guessing this has gone past the favour stage and into 'budding romance', whether Ruby knows it or not" Emma summarized, smiling when Mary Margaret squealed "Eminem here has already picked the perfect location for their outdoors summer wedding. I keep telling her that with Archie's complexion a prolonged exposure to the sun is a bad, bad idea"

"I see you've kept yourselves busy" Belle deadpanned, staring as Ruby laughed at something Archie said, a genuine sort of laugh, and kissed him on the cheek, making him turn a lovely shade of red "Well, anyway, I came here to say goodbye, I've had my fill of this enchanted evening, really…"

The rest of her words were cut out by a resounding clash, followed by the sound of breaking china and a body colliding against the three women. When the initial shock of the impact died down Belle unceremoniously shoved a groaning John Whale from her. He was sporting a bloody lip and a wine stain on his shirt that gave the brunette a pretty good idea of what had happened.

"When my girlfriend tells you to stay away, creep, you stay the fuck away, is that clear?" said a young, sandy-haired man who had a pretty blond clutching him by the shoulders, almost restraining him.

"Come on, Tom, the guy's not even worth it and your father will be pissed if you make a scene" she told him "And I'm so sorry, that you all got caught in the middle. Is anyone hurt?"

Emma was the first to stand up, giving a hand to Mary Margaret and telling her to be wary of the broken glass everywhere. Belle tentatively stood up, her hands smoothing her gown, looking for possible tears or stains and thankfully finding none.

"I'm all in one piece" the secretary announced "Belle?"

"I think I'm alright, I've just got something in my…"

A hiss of pain, sudden, had Belle doubling over, her hands going to one of her sandal-clad feet, probing the sole of her right foot, her hand coming out bloody. Belle wasn't particularly proud of how the sight of her blood affected her … It was one of those things she knew were not rational. She could handle the sight of other people's blood well enough, not being naturally squeamish at all, but she scraped one knee or got one tiny scratch on her and she swooned like some sort of stereotypical fairy-tale princess.

"Oh, no, she's gonna pass out" Mary Margaret said from some place nearby. Belle's vision had gotten blurry, sounds mixing together, eyes riveted on the line of red on her fingertips. She felt arms guide her to a seat "Just breathe, Belle, come on"

Had she been able to blush she would have. In the back of her mind she could process what a mortifying scene she was making, and prayed people were still distracted enough by Whale's poor attempts at wiping himself clean to pay her much attention. Unfortunately Whale had chosen that moment as the one to remember he was a doctor and offer his assistance.

"Ok, let me see" she felt his fingers lift the hem of her dress and made a sound of protest, gathering enough of her wits about her to shove him backwards, away from her and into tiramisu leftovers that littered the floor.

"Emma, get him away from me" she pleaded, regaining enough focus to shrink away from the good doctor. But it wasn't Emma the one that dissuaded Whale from again offering his very unwelcome help, rather Nicholas Gold, who quickly slammed his cane down between Whale's open legs, barely missing anything of consequence and making Tom, the irate boyfriend, cringe in sympathy.

"You, boy" he barked at a nearby waiter "Where do you keep a first aid kit?"

His hands gently cradled Belle's face, tipping it up to look into her eyes, trying to get them to focus on him and not on the blood that was now seeping out of her sandal. The nervous waiter mumbled something about the Coat Room and offering to show him the way. Nicholas rolled his eyes, but prompted Belle up, supporting her the best he could with his lame leg, taking care she didn't step on her injured foot and drive the piece of glass that she had embedded there any deeper.

Whale was left there, unceremoniously sprawled on the floor, both fear and embarrassment clouding his features. What a waste of time the Charity Gala has turned out to be, he thought, getting all dressed up only to run into unavailable women with angry boyfriends everywhere…

"Oh, dear, are you alright?"

A woman knelt by his side, a brunette with curly hair, dark eyes and rather impressive… attributes. He craned his head to look into her face, not really wanting to get punched once more in the evening but at the same time rather confused as to how he had managed to ignore a woman of such… virtue all evening.

"I… err… yes, thank you" he mumbled, dazed. Usually women did not approach him, he was used to taking the first step, mostly with lukewarm results at best. The woman smiled, her tanned skin glowing in the light of the room and contrasting very nicely with the electric-blue of her couture gown.

"Then let's get you up and get you a drink, it'll make you feel better" she proposed, helping him straighten up with a smile "I'm Jessica, by the way. Jessica Ann"

Whale smiled in return, marvelling at how this woman, this Jessica, had no qualms about keeping her arms around one of his after he had no need of her help to keep himself standing.

"John Whale… Dr John Whale" he muttered, a silly smile forming on his face when she grinned up at him and pressed herself closer "Forensic doctor, to be more precise"

"Really?" Was he mistaken or what there a flirty quality to her voice? "How fascinating!"

Inwardly, John Whale high-fived himself and thanked his lucky stars.

* * *

"Come now, dearie, you can be angry at me all you want after we get your pretty little foot looked at" Nicholas said, his brogue soothing and still a tad mocking as he guided Belle out of the ballroom and across the hall. The moment they found themselves in the Coat Room, a rather spacious room filled to the brim with furs and wool overcoats, he dismissed the mumbling boy with a curt nod and a thanks that didn't sound particularly grateful. There was, nailed to a wall, a white and red first aid kit, rather big and, as it turned out, pretty well stocked.

"Okay, dearie, now lean against the wall and for the love of God, keep that foot off the floor" he instructed, taking out the antiseptic, some gauze, tape and rubbing alcohol, along with some cotton balls. He knelt at her feet, his leg reminding him to be careful of his movements. He gingerly unclasped her golden sandal, pausing a micro second to admire the stiletto heel and notice the silkiness of her ankle, the first bit of Belle he had touched in over a month. He forced his mind not to let his hand caress her calf and pause at the hollow of her knee, knowing he needed to look at her foot. He grimaced when his fingers made contact with the shard of glass that had slipped into her footwear and cut into her skin, trying to see how big it was. He found her a stool, a small cushioned one, and slowly eased her down, so her back could still rest against the wall.

"Shhh, darling, I know it hurts" he murmured, raising her dress enough to plant the most chaste kiss he could manage on the top of her knee "But I have to do this"

He massaged her calf, willing the muscles to relax and his own not to tighten in desire. His Belle was hurt and needed his help, not his very horribly-timed lust. The fabric of the dress, slippery as hell, made it difficult to keep it away from her legs, so he instructed her to lift the hem to the middle of her thighs and keep it there, since he would need both his hands to treat her. He tried not to be distracted by the amount of skin exhibited to his viewing pleasure, particularly when he noticed she wasn't wearing stockings, the cruel wretch.

She let out another cry of pain that tore at his heart. His precious girl was suffering and he was not making things better. He thought to distract her, at first, by tracing his fingers up and down her calf while soaking one of the cotton balls in alcohol. Her whimpers were killing him, making him press his lips to the inside of her thigh, trying to comfort her in any way he could. When he dragged his light stubble- he hadn't shaved for the event, his thoughts otherwise occupied- over the sensitive skin there she shuddered again but he could tell the difference between her shiver of pain and this more languid movement.

A thought entered his mind, so random and seemingly inappropriate he tried to brush it aside at first. But the moment he tried to remove the shard of glass from the sole of her foot she threw her head back and cried out, pain sharp and intense reflecting in the way her hands shook as they held the fabric of her dress up. It decided him then, and without further ado, so that he wouldn't second-guess himself, Gold placed an open-mouth kiss on the centre of Belle's thigh, drew the supple flesh to his mouth and sucked, the motion drawing her attention away from her foot and causing her to moan quite differently than before.

"Nick?" she said, hazy "What are you…?"

"Hush, dear, concentrate on what I'm doing to you, alright? On what I've been wanting to do for over 30 days, what I've dreamt about every single night while I tossed and turned in my cold bed, missing every inch of you till it hurt" his voice reverberated across her sensitive skin, driving her to distraction just as Nicholas's deft fingers dislodged the shard of glass from her foot, quickly pressing an alcohol-soaked cotton ball and steeling himself for her pained gasp. His other hand moved to her unharmed leg, tracing the hollow of her knee and going up, using his nails to gently scrape alongside her creamy, unblemished skin till she was back to panting and moaning the good way. Her whole leg shook now not with pain but with lust, and he could see that her eyes were both heavy-lidded and strangely surprised, as if she couldn't decide if she felt pain or pleasure or both and neither.

He dragged his mouth upwards, getting perilously close to her underwear, trying not to react when he saw she was wearing a gold thong, the cut of the underwear, he knew, necessary when using a couture gown (Belle wasn't particularly fond of thongs so the sight of her in one was a rare treat). He could smell her, both her vanilla-scented body wash and lotion and the unique scent of her, the one that had eluded him for so long it smelled like heaven, like home, like paradise and hell.

His tongue traced the edges of the golden lace, delicate and flimsy like only La Perla could produce, and his nose nudged her centre, basking in its heat. His teeth caught the edge of her underwear just as he replaced the bloodied cotton ball for a newer one, delighting in the way she didn't seem to feel the new sting of alcohol against her open wound.

"You are a wee demon, aren't you?" his brogue had come to play, thickened always by his desire "Torturing me today, driving me wild only a few feet away, my golden goddess with a heart of stone" he dragged her panties down with his teeth, masterfully managing to get his hands to apply antiseptic cream to the sole of her foot. The moment the cream touched her skin she shuddered, but there was no pain in her movements or her face, only pleasure.

He let his mouth find its favourite spot amongst her curls, his tongue eagerly parting her folds to seek out the taste of her, one it hadn't forgotten in the weeks they'd been apart. She was wetter than he thought she'd be, and he could tell it wasn't just from the last few minutes, if her soaked panties were any indication. And even though he had figured out as much the tangible proof that he hadn't been alone in his thoughts and wants all night, all month, managed to send a jolt up and down his spine, prompting his tongue to delve deeper into her, doing what his occupied fingers couldn't. He circled her clit, his teeth readily caressing the bundle of nerves with the gentles and most unsatisfying touch he could manage, delighting in her strangled sounds of protest and her attempts to grasp his hair with one of her hands while the other tried to keep the dress gathered around her waist.

"Nick" she ground out, angry and pleading at the same time, her fingers finally digging into his soft hair and tugging at it with a force that went straight to the businessman's crotch in an embarrassing shudder "_Come on!_"

He laughed, finally taking her clit between his front teeth and tugging just as he finished applying the antiseptic cream, drawing back and wiping his cream-covered fingers with the remaining cotton balls. Noticing the fingers of his right hand were lightly coated in blood he grabbed a piece of gauze but, before he had a chance to clean himself he saw her eyes intently looking at his bloodied fingers and, following a strange impulse, drew them into his mouth and sucked them clean, listening as her breath hitched and a keening, inhuman sound left her mouth.

His hands shook as they cut a piece of gauze and folded it till it was small enough to tape over the injury. He wanted to be as quick as possible but she wouldn't let him, removing her foot from his grasp to hook it behind his back, pushing him forward till he was back where he should have never left, this time adding his saliva-coated fingers to his teeth and tongue, first slightly skimming them over her inner thigh, making goose-bumps appear all over before he let them wonder higher, tracing her hipbone lovingly before tangling in her curls and finally, blessedly, sinking into her with ease, first two and then three, curling them the way he knew she liked, guiding himself by her pleas and hoarse cries of "There!" or the most sought-after "Oh, dear God".

The heat of her had him dizzy and irrational, trying hard to remember he was supposed to be easing her pain and not merely prompting her pleasure. He fought to find a pace that would pluck the loudest screams out of her, his fingers twisting expertly and pulling back almost all the way before plunging back into her, the motion followed by his tongue first, lapping at her fluids and his teeth second, teasing her folds to finally firmly brush her clit, nerve endings singing in approval each time, evidenced mostly by a hitching of her breathing or a loud exclamation of his name.

He finished taping the gauze firmly in place just as she came, hard and sudden, tightening around his fingers in a way that made him even more conscious of his own unfulfilled desires, his cock straining against the silk of his boxers and his expensive and perfectly-tailored pants. She sagged against the stool, leaning heavily on the wall at her back, her breathing ragged just as his own was.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he enquired, voice shaky as he kissed her right thigh this time, trying to undo any damage he might have done to her. She carded her fingers through his hair in a soothing pattern.

"You could never hurt me" she whispered into the emptiness of her room, her caresses rewarded by more ardent kisses to her thighs and every single bit of her skin he could get to. Seeing her underwear carelessly tossed at his feet and her sated form hovering over him he couldn't help the selfish thoughts and ideas coursing through his mind and when she tugged on his hair to get him to look up at her knew all those desires where plainly written across his face. Her eyes did not judge him or condemn him, merely regarded him warmly.

"Belle, I…" he knew she knew what he wanted, and tried to plead his case and ask forgiveness for his daring at the same time "I'd be as gentle as a lamb, I swear. I'd treat you like spun glass, as delicate as china, if you would only let me…"

The rest remained unspoken, the words not needed to convey meaning. Her hand grasped his shoulder and tugged on his jacket to make him rise, which he did after struggling a few moments with his injured knee. She cupped his face in his hands, the touch heavenly, and shook her head. He tried not to let his disappointment show, knowing that what he has asked for her had been too much.

"No" she said softly, petting his hair… _And dear Lord, how he had missed her petting his hair _"You're not a lamb. You're a lion" she paused, smiling ruefully "A beast…" he flushed, recalling their earlier fight with no small amount of shame now that he had her back in his arms. She saw it all in his face, the one businessmen couldn't read, the one that people muttered was carved in stone. He was an enigmatic character with the rest of the world, and an open book with her.

And Belle loved him for it.

She nuzzled his jaw, his cheek, the spot just behind his ear.

"My beast" she purred, taking his earlobe between his teeth, supressing a giggle when he let out a strangled, pained moan as she tugged on it gently before letting go "My mate"

He pinned her hard against the wall then, no trace of delicacy or care in his movements as he took her mouth with his, demanding everything she hadn't given him in thirty days in a single minute, frenzied desire giving way to languid, all-consuming hunger next, slanting his lips leisurely across hers, drinking in her every sound of approval, tongue tracing her parted lips before plunging deep into her mouth, wrapping around her own tongue with the barest of sighs, feeling his limbs finally stop shaking and his insides rearrange themselves into a semblance of normalcy. He was getting her back into his system and all was right with the world.

"Dear God, how I missed this" he rasped, lips parting from hers to slide down her throat, nibbling on every bit of skin he could before he realized that, though he was licking the side of her painted neck, he didn't taste the chemicals he expected from the gold dust scattered all over her upper body. Instead he tasted the barest hint of burnt sugar… Caramel.

He tasted her usual vanilla and a good dash of mouth-watering caramel.

"Did I not mention this particular line of body make-up is edible?" she asked into the crook of his neck, and he could feel her wicked smile spreading against his skin there "Most of it is fruits, but a friend of Ruby's from the UK managed to whip this up for me. It took her a couple of months, but I thought you'd appreciate it"

He ground his hips against her, showing her exactly how much he did appreciate it and she groaned in bliss.

"Now I'll have to lick every inch of it off you, you do realize that" he whispered into her ear before ducking to drag his tongue through her collarbone "Can't have you leaving here with lick marks all over… Though, on the other hand, that would make _quite_ a statement, wouldn't it?"

He nipped at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, knowing it always got a breathless response from her. Though the first time had been exciting, to make love to her while knowing her weaknesses, the spots that made her see stars, it left him giddy with power and equally powerless against her own knowledge of what made him tick.

"How do I get this awful thing off you?" he asked between kisses and caresses, his hands sliding around her waist, enjoying the silky feel of the golden fabric of her dress but wanting more to touch the skin beneath.

"What if someone comes in?" she tried to reason with him, at the same time kissing his forehead and the side of his head, unearthing his grey sideburns, always obscured by his long mane of hair. He turned to nuzzle her hand and plant a soft, barely-there kiss on her pulse-point.

"The helpful lad told me how to close the room from the inside, to give us privacy while I… tended to you" he chuckled then, a wicked sound that made something coil low in her belly, delicious pressure building there "He offered to be on the lookout and make sure nobody disturbs us"

Belle frowned, trying to think even as Nicholas scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving more bruises than what she'd be able to cover up with the concealer tucked safely into her clutch.

"Won't he be able to hear us?" she finally asked, slipping her nimble hands into his jacket to pull it back and off his shoulders. He paused in his ministrations, having cleaned most of the gold dust off her chest and neck and satisfied with his overall progress.

"Splendid" he finally replied, something dark and primal lurking behind his Scottish brogue "He was your wee admirer, it'll do him good to hear you moan my name… Over and over"

She laughed, a throaty sound she knew he adored, and playfully turned around in his arms, giving him a new wave of fresh, delightful little ideas to try out with her.

The dress was fastened to her by a nearly-invisible row of hooks and eyes, diminutive and a bloody nuisance when his hands shook with anticipation and need. He took his time though, both adoring the dress and hating it, knowing he'd want her to wear it again but dreading the time she decided to do so.

"I should tear this dress off you" he growled, resting his forehead in-between her shoulder-blades as he continued unfastening the damned gown "Rejoice in the sound of the silk coming apart in my hands, in your pleas to spare this torture device you saw fit to tease me into submission with. I should burn the remains and leave just enough ribbons of the fabric to use as restraints to tie you to my bed and ensure you don't leave it till I'm good and satisfied, till I've gotten my fill of you… Which would undoubtedly take a while" at last he reached the last hook and, with one gentle tug, the whole dress pooled at their feet, a gentle whisper of gold against her skin before it left it bare to his eyes. The strapless bra was of the same flimsy lace as her underwear and it was quickly tossed aside.

He didn't turn her around, though, enjoying the sight of her bare back and the taste of it as he pushed her unbound hair aside- he dimly recalled undoing her fashionable chignon while snogging her senseless- to lap at the back of her neck, tasting caramel and vanilla as he worked on removing as much gold from her as he could. His hands circled her waist, splaying across the smoothness of her stomach and tracing lazy circles around her navel, marvelling at the way she shivered, loving how highly responsive his little Belle was to his every touch.

He thought of taking her from behind, the angle one of his favourites, but he had to be careful of her foot and, besides, he wanted to look into her eyes as he drove her to temporary madness. Belle's eyes were exceptionally expressive and he never enjoyed them more than when they darkened in desire. He turned her then, taking care to make sure she was not leaning on her injured limb, and gathered her to him, confused when she shied away. For a horrible moment he thought the worst, that she had come to her senses and was not about to let her boyfriend take her in the coat room of the third-floor ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria. The next moment he registered that her fingers were unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off him rather insistently. He hadn't even noticed her discarding his dark blue bow tie, and wondered dimly if he'd manage to find it when it was time to dress again.

"I hate your undershirts" she muttered, nails scraping against his abdomen and living very welcomed red slashes against his pale skin as he yanked said undergarment off him "I know I always say love is layered, but you may have taken it a little too far"

He pressed her up against the wall, eager to push his chest against hers, feeling immediately the hardness of her nipples. This distracted him, and he quickly pressed one fleeting kiss to her open mouth before venturing lower, hooking her injured leg around his waist to make sure it stayed as away from the floor as possible, grinding his teeth when his knee protested at the added weight. He trailed the length of her collarbone with his tongue, remembering the sight of it drenched in chocolate all those years ago, and finding it even more delicious now, after such a prolonged period of involuntary abstinence. He nuzzled the valley of her breasts, where the smell of her skin was concentrated, and inhaled deeply, the last weeks of his life dissolving into nothing. One of his arms cinched around her waist, holding her up and against the wall and his other hand traced light, teasing circles on the side of one of her breasts, drawing pleading whimpers from her throat. One of her own hands had a hold on his hair, trying to push his lips towards to a side till he finally took pity in her, and in him, and allowed her to guide him to one of her nipples, closing his mouth around it and swiping his tongue over it, a bout of manly pride blooming in him when she arched her entire body and grunted in approval of his actions, unknowingly grinding her hips into his and almost causing him to crumble to the floor, taking her with him in the process.

"You wanton lioness" he chided her, his now heightened accent making his words hard to understand, even with the practice Belle had "_My_ lioness, my warrior goddess, my most exquisite tormentor… You're gonna be the death of me one day"

He turned his head, his mouth latching onto her other nipple while his freed hand kneaded the other breast, barely noticing Belle's hands quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down, twisting and wriggling to get them to pool to the floor, his burgundy boxers following soon after. He managed to step from between them somehow, in a feat of speed and daring worthy of some sort of Olympic award. When he pressed himself bare into her he almost groaned aloud and with embarrassment he had to fight the urge to come then and there, like he was some sort of hormonal fourteen-year-old with no self-control whatsoever.

"Belle" he groaned, one of his hands hooking her other leg around his waist, taking a minute to find a position that wouldn't completely shatter his injured kneecap… not that he would notice, all his focus stolen by the feel of her against him "_My dear Belle_. _My life_"

Some more shifting and he was inside her, his cock finally nestled where it belonged, his entire body sighing in relief, some muscles uncoiling as others did just the opposite. One of his arms was around her waist and resting somewhere above her lower back, anchoring her to him even as the light sheen of sweat there made it increasingly difficult, and the other supported her weight, securely holding a handful of her ass.

"You cannot feel this tight" the grunted, teeth worrying the skin of her neck "I've been fucking you for years. You shouldn't feel this deliciously tight" there was a note of despair in his voice, as though trying to guess how he was supposed to last when she felt so good around him. She made some sort of keening sound in response, grinding her hips against him to prompt him to move. He did so almost immediately, his hips slamming against her with a sort of frenzied need, pulling back almost entirely before plunging back into her, over and over till he set a pace he reasoned would possible not kill him. She thrust her head back, giving his lips easy access to the underside of her jaw, where the last flicks of gold were hiding, eagerly awaiting the length of his tongue. After he had thoroughly licked her clean he tipped her face down to kiss her again, feeling their complete and utter union like a balm, erasing the phantom pains in his body like they were never there. The horrible reality of the lasts days was fading, and he held onto it, if only to search for the words in which to communicate it to her as his hips keep their rhythm.

"_Do you know what torture it is when, during long nights, the arteries boil, the heart is bursting, the head is splitting, and one's own teeth bite one's own hands?_" another thrust and Belle looked up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open, nostrils flaring in a tell-tale sign of lust "_When inexorable tormentors are unceasingly turning one, as on a burning grid-iron, because of thoughts of love, jealousy and despair_?" his voice was a growl, passion and anguish mingling till they became one, and he knew he was too close to his release, and Belle, having come once already, wasn't ready for a second time yet. He changed the angle of his thrusts, letting her one-word pleas and desperate sounds be his guide as he found a deeper form of penetration which he would be able to keep up for a while at least. But even as he found it he knew something was missing and he wished she'd tell him and put him out of his misery. His legs were shaking now, the strain of her weight and his exertions leaving them

"More" she finally croaked, dragging her fingernails down his back to catch his attention "Do it again, Nick…" another pause, her voice getting breathy and faint as she elaborated "I want to listen to more"

He searched his addled mind for what could satisfy his little Belle even as his more primal side drove in and out of her with single-handed focus, her flesh and his the only important things in the world. He caressed her naked back with a trembling hand, wetting his lips to whisper into her ear:

"_Oh, to love a woman! To love her with all the fury of one's soul! To feel that one would give, for the least of her smiles, one's blood, one's life, one's fame, one's salvation!_" every sentence was punctuated with a thrust and a moan from her lips, and it urged him on, rejoicing in having uncovered a rather unconventional kink of Belle's "_Immortality and eternity, this life and the next; to regret not being a king, or an emperor, or a genius, or an archangel, or God, that one might place a greater slave upon her feet_"

She answered each of his words with a movement from her hips or a scratching of her lovely fingernails on his back. He felt his control slip and for a suspended second in time hated her for not reaching the end of her own rope and putting him out of his misery.

"_Mercy_" he whispered against her ear, his lips brushing against the skin there fleetingly with every word he spoke. He grasped one of her hands, bringing it to his lips to plant feverish kisses upon her palm and wrist "_Child, torture me with one hand, but caress me with the other! Have pity! __**Have pity on me!**_"

He felt her walls tighten suddenly, and sent a prayer to whoever cared to hear it as she came undone all around him, holding onto his shoulders and deliciously biting down on his neck to keep as quiet as possible, shaking harder that he had ever seen her do previously. His release came instantaneously, lasting as much as her and leaving him sated in a way he was sure he had never felt before. It was a month worth of unfulfilled lust and curtailed desires that clashed upon him, as heavy as the ten fist months of their acquaintance, if not made heavier by the actual knowledge of her body and what it could do when snuggly wrapped around his.

He lowered them onto the cold floor with as much gentleness as he could, using the pile of clothes at their feet as some sort of lover's nest, Belle snuggling against him with a content hum, her skin aglow with perspiration and whatever else caused post-orgasmic women to shine.

"That was…" she sighed, shaking her head in an effort to clear her mind enough to find a word for what had just happened. The fact that she couldn't did more for Gold's ego that whatever compliment she might have found.

"Indeed" he purred beside her, his forehead nudging the side of her face, content to play the sated cat cuddling up to its master.

They staid like that for a few more minutes before reluctantly beginning to work on their appearance, dressing with care and looking for the pins Belle had used to pull her hair up, coming close to recreating her original hairstyle. The bathroom adjoining the Coat Room was useful to clean the little remains of gold dust from Belle's body, though how she'd explain why she had wiped it off she had no idea. She tied Nick's bowtie for him, the businessman grinning like a shark when he noticed her fingers trembled as they did so, and then yanked on it, making catching his attention.

"This was spectacular. Mind-blowing, Earth-shattering, before-and-after kind of sex" she said and then glared at him, true anger in her face "But in no way does it make me forget what you did to Jefferson. Never again, Nick, not to any of my friends. Can you do that?"

He looked at her intently before nodding, knowing she was not asking anything unfair of him. Jefferson was a rather dear friend of Belle's and he'd have to make his peace with it.

"_Vilify me, strike me, be angry at me, do what you will, but for mercy's sake, love me_" he murmured before kissing her thoroughly, muffling her laugh.

"By the way, I'll be exploring this rather particular reaction to Victor Hugo again, dearest" he warned her, taking her hand and helping her limp back to the ballroom. She smiled, a coy little gesture that sent his blood pumping.

"Do you promise?"

* * *

It was late in the evening, but Mal languished by the bar, feeling restless and oddly unwilling to call it a night yet. When she spotted her assistant, being helped into her coat by Nicholas Gold, she rolled her eyes and approached the pair.

"Really, Nick? The Coat Room?" she chided, not fooled at all by the couple's attempts at looking presentable. Belle blushed, as she knew she would, and Nick grinned, showing sharp teeth and reeking of satisfaction.

"I really don't know what you're inferring, dearie" he replied, completely at ease "Though I must admit it is a rather lovely room. I know I won't be forgetting it any time soon"

The brunette besides him elbowed him slightly in the ribs, shaking her head.

"We're taking off, Mal, if you don't need me anymore"

The blond CEO bit her tongue so she wouldn't ask the girl to stay, it would be very unfair to force her to remain with an injured foot.

"Not at all, dear… Though I suspect that I'd said yes Nick would have still dragged you out as quickly as his crippled little self could manage. Go home, rest… And I mean it, dear, _rest_. And drink plenty of fluids in between bouts of love-making. Remember that dehydration is bad for the skin"

Another blush, a quick hug and they were gone. Her little friends had also departed, two in the arms of very besotted men and one arguing with another, and she felt a healthy kind of envy that still hurt a bit.

Her rather morose thoughts were interrupted by someone resting against the bar near her.

"Whiskey, boy, and neat" the newcomer barked, short and to the point. Mal glanced at him, surprised to see he was a bit older than her, and looked a tad uncomfortable in his expensive and pristinely-cut suit. The nervous bartender handed him his drink but in the process knocked over Mal's, coming close to getting vodka on her lovely Ellie Saab. She looked at him with murder in her eyes and he stuttered something unintelligible before scampering off, presumably in search of a wet rag to clean the CEO's vodka-drenched hands.

"Well, that was rather bad form" the stranger said, his lovely English accent hooking Mal against her will. He produced a handkerchief seemingly out of thin air and offered it to her with a curt nod. Finding herself gracious she offered a smile as she accepted it, wiping her hands clean and returning it.

"Do you think he'll ever come back?" the stranger said, a note of humour in his voice.

"No if he knows what's good for him" Mal replied sweetly, her smile dangerous. Men were usually put off by this side of her but the stranger laughed, head thrown back and blue eyes dancing.

"I do love a woman that knows how to scare men in to submission" he complimented her, giving her a more appraising look "I do hope I'm not being too forward"

Mal paused, threw caution to the wind and shook her head, grasping the hand he was offering and feeling a nice sort of heat when he kissed her hand.

"Not at all" she murmured "I'm Mallory Ficient, by the way, CEO of Uni Global"

The moment of truth was upon her. She expected the newcomer to retreat, but he merely smiled even wider and caressed her hand once before letting it go.

"James Hook, owner of the Jolly Roger Shipbuilding Corporation. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my beauty. Would a lady such as yourself care to keep an old dog company for a while?"

She shrugged, trying to ignore the way something sparked inside her.

"Of course… For a while"


End file.
